


Drift Compatible

by devilangelsol



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Character Death, Drift Compatibility, Except the robots are sentient Jaegers, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humanformers, Little Bits from other TF continuities, Lots of characters died in the past, Neon Genesis Evangelion References, Ollivander Voice: "The Robot Chooses the Pilot", Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Slow Burn, Some Humor, Somewhat Canon Adiacent, Stealing commonly used tropes from TF fics everywhere, Team Prime - Freeform, The humanformers pilot giant robots, The tiniest bit illustrated, Vague mentions of cruel and unusual deaths, rating is mostly for swearing, the cybertronians are a little like the Voltron Lions, vague mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 81,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilangelsol/pseuds/devilangelsol
Summary: To combat an alien invasion, the human race built a series of giant sentient robots, created to work in tandem with their human pilots through a mental connection. In their haste, however, they made a crucial mistake, and now find themselves needing to defend against their own weapons.So they build more giant robots.Only this time, they're made with the prime directive to protect, instead of attack.See how it works out.
Relationships: Arcee & Jack Darby, Arcee & June Darby, Bulkhead & Miko Nakadai, Bumblebee & Rafael "Raf" Esquivel, Jack Darby & June Darby, Jack Darby & Rafael "Raf" Esquivel & Miko Nakadai, Jack Darby & Smokescreen, Miko Nakadai & Wheeljack, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

_To most readers, the way this story starts off will seem quite familiar: ultimately, of the many, there is always one who seems fated to die as means of introducing the conflict._

_The way he--or they, as would be in this particular story--go, on the other hand, is slightly different: not taken prisoner, stabbed through the heart and turned into a zombie like one would be inclined to believe, but rather by being unexpectedly drawn into an unstable portal while fighting off a surprise attack, the first warning sign of the end of the peaceful interlude, blood red on the horizon. The extreme G-forces in the wormhole make a critical weld fail, and he's crushed to death._  
_That's how one of them goes._  
_The other puts up quite an impressive fight, if one considers that he was never meant to operate on his own; if his creators were present, they would be proud (and furious, of the circumstances that drove him to this). But in the end, he's overwhelmed by the enemy's numbers and succumbs as well._  
_(He hadn't been giving it his all, in any case. What was the point, when his insides were red and his armour gray, instead of the other way around?)  
  
_

_Back on Earth, a lone figure arrives in the now silent place of battle. Slipping in amongst the wreckage, she stoops and picks up a lopped off, metal bull's horn._

* * *

  
"It's not your fault."  
"Two pilots. In less than one year. I thought what happened to Bill was just bad luck."  
"It was." Gentle grief. "You couldn't have forseen that."  
"I should have realized. I should've done more. I... I should... " Accusation, from a different source. "We should terminate project 10. It has the same weaknesses 08 had, I was so _blind_. No more engineering units using those guidelines. No more making any that _small_." A sharp inhale. "Jesus. _06._ "  
A hand on his shoulder, slipping around his neck as he was pulled into a half hug.  
"You must do what you think is right; this isn't my place to offer guidance. But I beg you: do not let your misplaced guilt cloud your judgement." His impersonal tone was offset by the hand squeezing his shoulder tightly.   
He sagged into the touch. The hot, prickly feeling in his throat and eyes and from the other end of his mental connection abated slightly.  
  


At length, the other let go, taking a step back.  
"I apologize if I overstepped my bounds."  
"No. You... You're..." Like the first One. A vast, calm ocean, unperturbed by the storm raging above its surface. No wonder he'd been chosen as the successor. 

It didn't stop him from wishing with all his heart that he was talking to the original-- yes, there it was, the bitterness. And the worst part of it was that he couldn't even be sure that it wasn't all his own.  
  


"I promise I won't make any hasty decisions." There had been way too many of those already. "But, until we get the... the full _damage report_ on 08, I want 10's construction put on hold. And 06..."  
  
The other was looking at him with clear, misleadingly guileless eyes.  
"Her pilot's on reduced hours for the next month, per my orders, to give her time to recover. Is that enough time for you?"  
  
"It should be. But if I find any possible failings in 06's plans, I'll need more." He straightened up, feeling slightly more grounded. "I'll have a team take a look at all of them, actually. Yours too. Heaven knows I haven't given Optimus a check up in ages. If he fries his control unit because of a bad relay, Ratchet will never let me hear the end of it."  
The other nodded, not a hint of amusement or impatience in the deep, serene pool. Like the first One, indeed.   
  
"Of course."

* * *

  
It was two in the morning when Jack Darby got the call.   
  
Not from his mom, as he had expected, but from Special Agent Fowler, whom he had met in person only once, along with a certain other, when he'd been fifteen years old and a faulty gas main had blown his high school sky high. Or had it been an earthquake? He was pretty sure it had ended up described as a "Natural Disaster" in the headlines.  
  
(It hadn't been a gas main.)  
  
He had met them only a week after it happened, in some government building next to the hospital where all the injured were being treated, before whoever in charge had gotten around to relocating them; Jack had been sitting in a plastic chair in a hall with his arm in a cast, waiting for his mom to come out from the office a bunch of people in suits had dragged her in. Probably signing a bunch of NDAs.  
(Because, the gas main. The agents had been quite clear about that.)  
  


He still remembered this scene with perfect clarity. The man had appeared in the corridor, and his presence had drawn his gaze as if it had its own gravitational field; it wasn't his height, or the bright colours of his jeans and jacket that stood out in sharp contrast to the antiseptic walls and his own exhausted expression, but the feeling that this was a person who was used to giving orders and them being obeyed. He had been accompanied by Fowler, who had gestured at him to come into the office as with them.  
  
June had looked up, zeroing in on the man; she had momentarily faltered when she saw her son with them, but then her expression had hardened and her eyes had gotten the steely glint that Jack hadn't seen ever since his father had left.  
  
"I don't care what you're going to say. You won't change my mind," she had stated.  
The agent had snorted.  
"You obviously have no idea what you're getting into. What about your son? Don't you care about his future, even if you have no regard for your own?"  
Oh, how he hated being used as a bargaining chip.  
"I think I have a pretty good idea, thank you." Her tone had been frigid. "And you will get Jack over my cold, dead body. His future is precisely why I want this."  
  
The man had then spoken.  
"It doesn't need to be either of you. They aren't... like us. They aren't violent or twisted, but they don't operate by our same rules and morals. They don't comprehend why asking a single parent, or a child, to go into battle is wrong. But we do. So it's my job to tell you, Ms. Darby, that you have a choice. If you accept her offer, there is no going back."  
  
"But if I don't, what happens? No place on Earth is safe. That has been made abundantly clear. And now that we were... _selected_ , we--" she looked at Jack, helpless "we have a target on our backs, don't we? Tell me. How difficult would it be to find a... a... replacement?"  
  
Silence. Then:  
"Quite difficult. But we would manage."

June had smiled bitterly, and shook her head.  
  


They had been transferred to Jasper only three days later.  
And three days after that, June had showed up at their new house with a custom-made cell phone and a shiny, blue motorcycle.

  
That had been two years ago. And now Jack was in the kitchen in his pajamas with the phone in a death grip, pulling the emergency kit down from the top shelf, hurrying to get dressed and trying to get a grip on himself.  
"Jack. Don't panic. Your mother is uninjured, but for a series of reasons the Chief deemed it better for her to remain at the base for the time being. As a minor, you can't live by yourself yet, so you'll need to come over as well, unless you have a friend you can stay with."  
"I'll come over." As if it needed saying.  
"All right. Richardson will be there in half an hour to pick you up. Green SUV, pretty recognizable."  
  
Jack relaxed slightly. While he couldn't claim to know his mom's coworkers very well, he at least recognized this one: one of the older of the bunch, apparently, Kevin Richardson had come over quite a few times in the beginning, probably to check on how they were settling in. He had always seemed like a nice guy, although, as was the case with all of them, there was also an ever-present undercurrent of tension in his actions. He had gotten used to ignoring it after a while.  
  


He had just finished throwing in the last items into the kit (extra clothes, flashlight, water bottles, energy bars) when a vehicle flashed its brights outside his house. He hauled the bag out the front door and locked it, and Kevin met him halfway down the driveway.  
"Don't worry kid, your mom's fine, just upset. Combs is being a paranoid mess." He lifted the bag from Jack's grip, threw it on the back seat and started the car with a flick of his wrist. The undercurrent of tension seemed more pronounced than usual, making the man's movements jerkier. It did nothing to soothe Jack's nerves.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Kevin grimaced. "Can't tell you, it's confidential. You know the drill. Although, between you and me, if you keep an ear open you'll probably get it. 'Specially since it looks like you're gonna be staying with us for a while."

They hit the town limit.   
"Can I see her when we get there?"  
Kevin's mouth twisted further.  
"Dunno. Probably not immediately. She was still with the Boss when I left, and I think... well, it's probably best to just let her sleep after. But in the morning, definitely. I'll knock some sense into the Doctor myself if I have to."  
  


They spent the rest of the trip in silence. Even if it wasn't the first time he'd done this, Jack still gripped the edge of his seat as they drove off the road at full speed towards one of the towering mesas, only letting go when the rocky sides parted like the magic cave in Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves and granting them entrance to the Nevada base. Outpost Omega-1.   
Unit E's main base of operations.   


"Ah, shit," Kevin muttered as they entered the main hangar.   
There were people everywhere, on the floor and high above on the catwalks, carrying equipment left and right, teams of technicians and engineers working on all sorts of complicated looking devices. As they drove forward slowly, crowd parting as people milled about them, a huge portal on one end of the base lit up in a vortex of swirling green light and another ten-or-so people came in, tugging a cart that contained what _looked_ like a...  
  
Oh.  
He had a feeling he knew what had happened that night.  
  
Gas mains blowing up. Earthquakes.  
  
Giant robots. Heh.  
(Yeah. Those were a thing.)   
  


To combat the sick feeling in his stomach, he tried to look at everything except the giant metal arm that half the base was now converging onto.  
  
"RICHARDSON!" A harried-looking, middle aged man was approaching their vehicle, fending off a small horde of equally frazzled scientists. Kevin stuck his head out the window.  
"What are you still doing here! Aren't you supposed to be out on guard?"  
"Boss's orders, Double O." He tilted his head in Jack's direction. "Thought it might be better if I went and got him instead of some random techie. Can we leave?"  
The orange-and-white clad mad peered in through the window at Jack, who pressed himself into the seat, uncomfortable. He huffed.  
  
" _Fine_. But I want you back here in five. The area needs to be secured an _hour_ ago, we've got flare-ups all over the globe, and there's a bunch of-- _what_ " he whirled around to glare at one of the scientists, who had been pulling on his lab coat in an increasingly frantic manner.  
  
"Sir, the Geiger reports high levels of radiation coming from 08's core, the bridge may be contaminated...!" the man swore and took off. Kevin leaned back against his seat and closed the window.

  
"Sorry about that." The tension was palpable, in direct contrast to his light tone. "I'll just leave you off in Arcee's bay. That's where your mom's living quarters are. If you ever decide to wander around the base and get lost, the door you're looking for is the one with the big 06 on it. Can't miss it. Most doors are motion sensitive. If they aren't, it means you shouldn't be trying to open them."  
  
He parked the SUV next to one of the many giant doors in the corridor. It was a lot more quiet there, no people running back and forth. Jack got out and grabbed his kit from the back.  
  
"Here we are. Can't stay any longer to show you around, Combs is probably going postal. Things will probably quiet down in a few hours, and someone will give you a full tour of the base at some point; if you need anything, give Agent Fowler a call. You have his number, right?"  
At his assent, he sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
"Good. Just... don't worry yourself frantic, ok? Everything's gonna turn out all right."  
  
And he drove off, leaving Jack in front of the giant doors. Giant doors, for giant robots.

  
Well. Looks like this was his life now.   
  
It had only been put off two years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speech Key:  
> "normal": Humans speaking.  
>  _"italics"_ : Speaking through comms.  
>  **"bold"** : Mechs speaking/humans speaking through mechs.

Somewhere in the outer reaches of Earth's Solar System, a rippling portal appeared; a huge ship almost managed to tear through it completely before it collapsed upon itself, but one of its vertical stabilizers remained caught in the space-time discontinuum and got scattered across the universe. Up in its control room, a tall, skeletal robot with jagged wings clapped his clawed hands together, delightedly.  
  
 **"A commendable job, Soundwave"** he purred. **"But I see we are still quite far from our destination. How much longer will it take?"**  
 _ **Resources: insufficient for another jump. Must proceed by ship. Estimated time of arrival: two-point-two-five days.**_  
The other clicked his tongue.  
 **"Oh, well. I've waited ten years for this. What's a couple more days?"** He tilted his head, and his eyes-- optics-- fixed themselves on a distant point shining like a homing beacon in the vastness of space. He sneered.  
  
 **"Two days, and then we can finally take what we deserve."  
**

* * *

  
Jack was startled awake after only a couple hours of sleep by familiar voices arguing somewhere outside the room. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, uncomprehendingly, before remembering what had happened earlier that morning; he rolled off the bunk and padded towards the door, trying to make as little noise as possible, and peered out.  
  
The first thing he noticed was the robot-- his mom's robot, that hadn't been there when he had first arrived-- now docked in the empty space in the center of the room, with a bunch of wires connected into her neck and back. She was slumped against the metal support structure, and the lights in her eyes and inner thighs were dark: she didn't look active.  
  
"...is ridiculous! I'm sorry, but I don't see how this can help with anything, especially at a time like this! You need all the pilots you can spare!"  
"Yes, and we also need our pilots to stay _alive_. May I remind you what happened to--"  
" _00._ " A pause. "June. You're off patrols for the next month. Should a code orange or above happen, you're allowed to assist, but other than that B-06 is to remain offline. Jeff. Making sure Arcee is functional is top priority: no more monitor duty, and the other units can wait."  
  
Loud complaints arose. Jack craned his neck to get a better view of the floor and squinted as his mom, worriedly scanning her.  
June had a hunched, defensive posture, her arms crossed, but she was standing up unassisted and Jack could find no evidence of damage: Kevin hadn't been lying, then.  
  
"This isn't a slight against either of you. You are both right: we need all the pilots we can spare, but we also can't afford to put them in needless danger. I'm afraid that this time of relative peace has come to an end: the Decepticons will bring the war back to Earth, and we must be prepared to meet them head on."  
"And that means finding a pilot for 07 just got a lot more urgent, doesn't it."  
Another, slightly longer, pause.  
"06. You _know_ I would never ask that."  
  
June put her head in her hands.  
"That wasn't what I-- I know you wouldn't, Orion. Damn it. I know none of you would. But it's true, isn't it? We can't just leave 07 benched now. Especially with Cliff... what are we going to do?"  
  
The other man-- Combs, if Jack remembered correctly-- sidled a little closer and bumped his shoulder against hers gently.  
  
"B-07 is one of the more... accepting mechs. Even if he hasn't chosen a new pilot yet, he's still let some of the candidates do test runs on him: I'm confident that this is what will finally convince him to pick one and get it over with. And even if he doesn't, the trainees already have enough experience to take him into battle. It's not full synchronization, but it'll do."  
  
The team leader nodded in confirmation.  
"Should the need arise, I will have 09 and his team return from their position as sentries offworld. That will leave our other front unguarded, but in these times it might be best to coalesce our fighting force instead of leaving it scattered. Do not worry, June. You're not going to remain without work this next month: you'll be on the monitors in Jeff's stead, and the trainees will take over patrols with 07. No one's safety will be compromised."  
  
June sighed, defeated.   
"Understood." She began making her way towards the 'house'. Jack scrambled back as quickly as he could while remaining quiet and jumped into his bunk, pretending to be asleep. A minute later, he heard the door open and shut.  
He had his eyes closed, but he still felt her hovering over him; she stayed like that for a moment before tucking the blanket closer around him and stepping into the other room.  
When the sounds of her moving around stopped, Jack opened his eyes.

  
He stayed awake for a long time.

* * *

  
_"04. Prepare to bridge back to base. We have a code yellow. Japan, Honshu."_   
**"Vehicons?"**   
_"Insecticons. Only two, looks like, but be careful: Insecticons like to swarm; it may be a trap."_   
**"Yeah, I know. Am I doing this solo?"**   
_"The containment team is already on the scene. Prime's on the other, but he says he's ready to come over if things get hairy."_   
**"Got'cha."**   
_"One more thing. They're heading towards a town. The team's trying to head them off, but those things can fly and helicarriers really can't compare to a drone. At this rate, they're going to get within firing range in ten minutes."_   
**"Open the groundbridge."**

  
  


They had nearly gotten there when Kevin managed to hit one. It fell out of the sky with a horrible screech and landed on someone's shed. Faintly, he wondered what sort of cover story the higher-ups would come up with this time. Meteor shower? Was that even a thing that happened? He shot it again, just to be sure, and began looking for the other.  
It had managed to get in the town and was furiously tearing up chunks of the road, probably trying to get to the energon vein that Bulkhead's scans had also picked up.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the mech snickered. **'Sphecius speciosus,'** Kevin thought he heard in the confusion; he rolled his eyes, having long since given up trying to understand bot humour, and went back to concentrating solely on his opponent, dodging the slab of asphalt the 'Con threw at him.  
 **"That all you got, bug? The Hive has gone soft these last years!"** he taunted, smacking a fist-turned-wrecking-ball against their open palm. The Insecticon emitted a weird warbling war-cry and rushed them; he grabbed it by its secondary arms and threw it over their shoulder, slamming it into the wall of a large building.  
 **!!FIVE!!** Bulkhead warned, the same time his proximity alarms sounded; Kevin whirled them around just in time to block a swipe from a third 'Con that had appeared. They had both forgotten the other arms, though, and it returned the favour by slamming them on the road three times in quick succession, and then against that same wall, making part of it collapse on top of them. 

He fired blindly with one Path Blaster, getting in a lucky hit, and levered them up with their other hand, pieces of concrete sliding off their chest as he did.   
Then came an unexpected yowl.  
  
Two very puffed up cats shot out of the hole in the wall, bounced off their armour, and fled up a tree. He blinked, bemusedly. The tree in question was maybe a foot taller than the Insecticon.  
He'd try to steer the 'Cons away from it, then: he didn't like the thought of furry, bloody pancakes.  
  
He regained his bearings at the same time the Insecticon did and they clashed, shouldering each other like football players; being several feet shorter than it, he easily got it with an uppercut, and--

\--a scream split the air. Kevin froze, then whipped their helm around. The other Insecticon was crouching by the hole and had stuck one of its arms through it.   
No guesses as to what it had found.

Shit.  
  
 **!!TWELVE!!** This time Kevin didn't react quickly enough, and was caught right in the stomach; he felt something in their frame give. An engine warning popped up on Bulkhead's HUD. Yellow-- not that serious (yet).   
The bug-like robot behind him made a sudden shrieking noise, and he _really_ didn't want to know what had caused that; as the other lumbered towards them one final time, thinking to finish them while they were down, he lunged for its unprotected chest and ripped its reactor straight out; not pausing for a second, they turned to face the other, Kevin preparing himself for the worst...  
  
...But the Insecticon was writhing on the ground, struggling to get its arm out from under... Jesus, was that a _grand piano_?  
  


Yes. Yes it was.  
  


A _piano_ , of all things, seemed to have somehow fallen on its arm; the 'Con couldn't get any leverage from its half-prone position, so it was effectively pinned in place.   
The comedic dissonance, and the relief, was so jarring he nearly laughed out loud.  
Kevin shot it in the head before it could free itself and kicked the smoking frame away from the entrance.  
  
 **"Uh. Hello? Ohayo?"** Bulkhead activated his heat vision. There it was, a small red blob standing out against the blue hues, wedged in the very farthest and darkest corner of the room. Kevin sighed.

 **"B-04 to Air support, come in. Didn't you say the local forces finished evacuating the town? Why is there a civilian still here?"**  
 _"B-04, this is Air support. Area should have been cleared half an hour ago. Transport is en route, ETA fifteen minutes. Stand by."_  
He snorted, standing up. Fifteen minutes of standing around to make sure a panicking civvie didn't do something stupid. Wonderful.  
Of course, that's when the bearing walls decided to quit doing their job; Bulkhead, having been engineered to do construction work as well as fight, read the stress in the pillars and foresaw the crash a millisecond before it happened, just enough time, in fact, to dive back under the rubble and grab the room's occupant before the ceiling caved.  
  


The person in their grip wriggled like an eel, flailing and biting and screaming what could only be curse words at them. Hmm. Maybe not as panicking as he had thought; now that they were in slightly better light, he tried to get a good look at them.

It was a girl, dressed in soft flannel Hello Kitty pajamas, with flyaway, pink streaked hair and dark skin. She looked tiny, clutched in their hand. 

She was also wearing the most ferocious expression Kevin had ever seen.  
Bulkhead _radiated_ approval.

 _"04!"_ Combs barked into his commlink. Kevin nearly dropped the girl. _"If you're finished over there, report back immediately! Forget about clean-up, I need to see that damage STAT, and you and 07 are resuming patrol starting in an hour."_ The comm closed before he could get a word in. A ground bridge appeared a few feet away.  
  
Kevin looked at the portal, then at the girl, who had gone deathly still, then back at the portal.   
  
**"Aw, hell."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly still can't believe I'm actually writing this, but oh well. It's super fun, and cringe is what fan-fiction's all about, so wth.  
> Btw despite having the names of the VAs, the mech's original pilots aren't in any way connected with the rl people. They're kind of OCs, and kind of humanformers. (I gave them the names of their VAs because it's a) a pretty fun considering that their mechs retain their voices and b) I have no imagination for names.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speech Key:  
> "normal": Humans speaking.  
>  _"italics"_ : Speaking through comms.  
>  **"bold"** : Mechs speaking/humans speaking through mechs.

"04," Fowler began slowly, "why the Sam Hill do you have a civilian with you?" Behind him, 00 looked like he was about to have a conniption. Kevin felt strangely vindicated.  
After setting the girl down carefully on the raised platform, and making sure that she wasn't about to keel over in a faint, he and Bulkhead fell out of the partial synchronization they'd been in as the mech folded into alt mode, and he stepped out of him. The girl stared, mouth forming a perfect 'o'.  
"It's not like you gave me the time to do anything else," he defended, glaring pointedly at the elder pilot over Fowler's shoulder. "What I was supposed to do, just leave her next to a possibly irradiating Insecticon corpse for fifteen minutes?"  
Combs spluttered.   
" _Yes!_ Literally _anything_ would have been better than bringing her to the base! How on earth are we going to justify _robot abduction_ to the japanese task force?"  
Fowler rubbed his temples. "What _I_ want to know is why a civilian was there in the first place."   
  
The groundbridge powered up again and 01 strode in, cutting an impressive figure against the blue-green light.  
**"The areas have been fully secured. B-04, the support team reported a security breach... ah."** He had caught sight of their unexpected guest. She squeaked and took a step back, as anyone would do when faced with a being that outweighed them by quite a few orders of magnitude. In her pajamas, in a military base. It wasn't that warm in there either, the thermostat set low on account of all the machinery, definitely colder than the evening air in Honshu had been. 

Kevin suddenly felt bad for her; he sent her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  
  
The Prime crouched so that his head became more-or-less level with them.  
**"Having been present at the scene, she would have had to be taken into custody in any case; it was an err on the side of caution to bring her here, although one that poses its own set of risks."**  
"Can't you just shazoo her back right now? It's only been five minutes," Fowler asked. 00 groaned. "No, we _can't!_ 04 and 07 need to be sent to California and would conceivably also need to be transported back within the day; the bridge doesn't have infinite capacitors, you know!"  
**"04 will remain with the civilian until the bridge is ready for non-essential travel."**  
Kevin started.

"Optimus, 07 isn't ready for solo missions! Can't someone on the night crew do that?" He wasn't stoked about starting another patrol after seventeen hours of continuous activity, but there was no way he was letting the rookies out on their own. Not after what happened to 08.  
**"I will be going in your stead. This is neither the time nor place for interrogation, and since you were the one to bring her in, it might be best for you to stay with her until the proper authorities arrive."**

B-07 walked into the hangar carrying one of the cadets in his hands; June's head appeared from below the platform.  
"Jeff, I'm ready to take over." Despite the shadows under her eyes, her expression conveyed calm as she smiled at the girl. "Hello, it's nice to meet you. I'm sorry this is so stressful, we're going to get you back as soon as we can, all right?"  
00 waved her off, not turning away from the screens.  
"Yes, yes, give me a minute. I need to imput the new coordinates, and then start the cooldown subroutines for the bridge, and--"  
"Jeff." 00 faltered.  
"I still have to check B-04's damage," he protested. June didn't budge an inch.  
"You do that. _I'll_ do the groundbridge maintenance." Combs seemed ready to put up a fight on principle until he spied 01 frowning down at him, his expression mirroring June's perfectly. He slumped.  
"...fine." As he walked towards the hall, he gestured at Bulkhead. "Well? Do I have to ask Ratchet to carry you all the way to the repair bay?"  
Kevin tried to smother the surge of annoyance he felt at hearing the head engineer speak to his partner in such a manner: it had been a long day, after all, probably harder on him than anyone else. Not that Combs was usually a ray of sunshine.   
He echoed Bulkhead's irritation sympathetically but didn't add anything else; the mech followed 00 out of the room, broadcasting sullen reluctance all the way.

 **"06, we are ready for transport."**  
07 opened his chestplates and the temporary pilot stepped inside; biolights lit up all over the mech's body, but no colours appeared on his silvery, unadorned armour, just as they hadn't for all the other pilots they had tried in the past two years. June's face remained carefully blank.  
  
"I'm going too. The Pentagon's been yelling in my ear ever since this whole mess started," Fowler stated as the pair disppeared through the bridge. He glanced at the girl. "I'll send for an interpreter and one of the Social Service guys: they'll need to question her and get her back home ASAP." And he left.  
  


With no giant robots or portals to be seen, the hangar suddenly looked a lot less alien and a lot more empty, since the emergency teams had already finished up for the day and the regular night crew wasn't due for another couple hours. He moved a bit closer to the kid.  
"Hey. Look, I know this is a pretty sh-- uh-- _scrappy_ situation, but it'll be ok, you hear me?" Damn, this was just like Jack all over again; he hated when kids got involved. At least this one hadn't been asked to go out and kill people. "Um, even if you probably don't understand what I'm saying. There's some video games and stuff you can play if you want..." It was then that he actually registered the pajamas. It was probably past 10 where she had come from, wasn't it? Shit.  
  
June seemed to take pity on them both, because she moved away from the monitors and got her attention (she had still been staring at the now inactive bridge) while gesturing at him.  
"It's a little cold in here, isn't it? We have some blankets on the sofa. Kevin, why don't you show her to the lounge?" The 'lounge' being literally just a sofa and a tv set mounted on one of the quieter platforms, away from the usual hubbub.  
"He's going to stay with you, don't worry."  
"...I am?"  
"Yup!"  
  
He pinched the bridge of nis nose. Jesus, but he was _tired_. Sitting down on a couch to look after a kid was looking more and more appealing, but he had things to do. All the others were still out and about working, it wouldn't be fair to them to just stop.

June smiled sweetly.  
"Boss's orders, 04."   
  
  
He gave in.

* * *

  
Somewhere in the suburbs, in a poor-ish, abandoned part of town, a boy was strolling aimlessly in one of the big flood control channels near the side of the road; they were having a drought, so there wasn't even the slightest trickle of water at its bottom, but the sand was still damp enough for his sneakers to leave perfect imprints in it.   
He turned and squinted at the sun, low on the horizon, trying to guess the time: could he manage another half an hour? He glanced at the book tucked under his arm; the fading red-gold light wasn't the best for reading: he had already gotten a headache in class that morning and he really didn't want to worsen it.  
He also didn't want to go back, and the book offered a perfect excuse. But now, with the shadows lengthening and the air starting to get colder, he didn't have much of a choice, and he should probably get off the streets before night fell.  
He tucked his book into his backpack.

  
A gunshot rang out.  
It echoed down the canal, the sound amplified by its curved walls.  
  
  


The boy froze.  
  
He was exposed in every direction: he needed to get out of there, but the sides were too steep to scramble up (he'd never been the athletic type) and there was literally nothing to hide behind, no boxes, no bulky trash, no driftwood; he turned around and ran the way he had come from, trying to get to the stairs before whoever involved in this spotted him.  
  
Perhaps, someone else would have been curious and have gone in the opposite direction. He wasn't, and didn't. He'd learned a long time ago that sticking his nose into other people's _affairs_ only brought trouble.

(The guns were new, though. Despite its neglect, his area was fairly peaceful, and gangs usually stayed downtown.)  
  
Another gunshot, closer, and now he could also hear what he _assumed_ was fighting, but which sounded more like his abuela's brassware being used for target practice run through Audacity; he tried to run faster, but the acid in his muscles wasn't going to let him.  
He wasn't going to make it to the stairs in time.  
  
And then a _car_ fell out of the sky and crashed against the other side of the channel; big pieces of some sort of... glowy crystal... rained down around them, and the car _sprouted legs._ And arms. And a head. And laser guns-- _what_ \-- and got up, and then _another_ car came roaring off his side of the ditch straight into the first one and also gained limbs, and--

  
It was at that point he realized that he probably shouldn't be standing there like an idiot.   
Unfortunately, that realization came just as a stray shot rocketed at him. He jumped to the side, just in time to avoid it, but it hit a chunk of the crystal...  
  
...and everything went blue.   
  


Blue, and white-hot, and ~~_**CODE**_~~.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have my charger! It came way sooner than I was expecting, honestly, but I still might continue this who knows.
> 
> On a completely unrelated note, does anyone know how to make glitch text? I need it for... reasons.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speech Key:  
> "normal": Humans speaking.  
>  _"italics"_ : Speaking through comms.  
>  **"bold"** : Mechs speaking/humans speaking through mechs.

Jack finally gave into boredom late in the evening, or what the clock insisted was evening, since he hadn't seen the outside since his arrival and his sleep schedule was entirely off-balance, and wandered through the base's hallways until he found himself in the main hangar. He checked his surroundings warily for giant robots-- he had no desire to get trodded on-- and stepped inside, surprised at how quiet it was compared to the previous night; he spotted his mom near the inactive groundbridge, on monitor duty.  
  
June heard him coming and turned to smile at him, tiredly.  
"Hi mom," he said quietly. "How's everything going?"  
"01 and 07 are still out, in California. They encountered some vehicons, but it didn't sound like anything serious, so they should be returning soon. Then we can all go to bed, finally." She went over and hugged him.  
"And you? I know the house is pretty small. Did you do all your homework? Did Arcee give you any trouble?"  
He shook his head. Actually, he had thought he had seen the mech-- or femme, as June sometimes referred to her-- looking at him out of the corner of his eye (two pinpricks of light in the penumbra), but everytime he glanced at her her head was turned away and her irises dark. It had been a little creepy, which was another reason he had decided to leave the bay and look for the other pilots. Speaking of which.

"Where are Kevin and 00's pilot?"  
"Jeff _should_ be asleep, but he probably isn't. Kevin's taking a nap with our guest."  
"Guest?"  
She nodded towards the couch. Jack leaned sideways to look at it.  
The couch was turned away from them, but he could see the back of Kevin's bald head next to a pile of blankets sprouting a shock of pink-streaked hair.  
"04 found her near where he was fighting Insecticons, inside the containment area." Jack made a soundless 'Ah' of understanding.  
  
The bridge opened one final time and 01 came through in vehicle mode, complete with trailer. No other bots followed. As the bridge shut down and began its recharging cycle, Pax and the other pilot stepped out; the cadet saluted and left. June frowned.  
"Where's--" 01's container doors opened and the race car drove out, heading towards his bay on his own. Pax shook his head wearily, then climbed up onto the platform.  
"Orion?"  
"Cadet Anjo and B-07 lost synchronization abruply in the middle of the fight. They were fortunate that no injury ensued from that moment of carelessness."  
June's mouth twitched up in a half-smile.  
"Fortune. Is this 07's legendary luck I've heard so much talk of?"  
"Nah, 07's skill can get way more impressive than that." 04 was up. "Try fighting blind in the fog and getting the Cons to shoot each other by pure accident." 

"Unfortunately, luck is not something we can rely on." They faltered.

"...That bad, huh. Another failure?"  
"It's not something that can be excused, not after months of training. Under different circumstances, they could have died." Their leader gave a full-body shake as if to forcibly eject his fatigue, and stood up straighter. "Where's the civilian?"  
They all turned towards the blanket pile on the couch, from which a pink head had emerged at some point. Figuring they were talking about her, she hopped off and headed towards them, blankets trailing on the wire mesh flooring and looking a lot less spooked than she had when she had first arrived.

"Has the ground team reported how she was missed in the evacuation yet?"  
June was about to reply with a negative when the girl raised her hand uncertainly.  
"Um, sir? I was sleeping in the music room; it's really well insulated, so that's probably why I didn't hear anything."  
There was a beat of silence.

"You can _speak English_?"  
  
She looked a bit miffed.  
"Of course I can! It's like, a required class? I'll have you know I'm in the top 20th percentile for grades in the entire _region_." She puffed out her chest. "The principal even considered sending me to America as an exchange student last year!"  
  
"Why were you sleeping in the music room?" Jack asked bewilderdly. She assumed a faintly embarassed air.  
"Uh... I might've... spray-painted my roommate's dresses black? It's nothing she didn't deserve!" she defended. "She cut half my hair out last night!" It _was_ pretty uneven, especially on top.  
"Anyway, I didn't want to be around her when she found out, and the music room's like the last place people are gonna look for me. I _hate_ music lessons." Her eyes sparkled. "Oh, man, that's right! No more piano! Dang, I should've thrown the stupid harp at that thing too."

Kevin choked.  
"Wait _what_."  
"There was this huge robot bug thing? It didn't look very nice, and the piano was already hanging half off, I only gave it a little push!" She had gone back to look unsure, as if they were about to yell at her for snuffing an Insecticon.   
Pax recovered first.   
"Your actions were... commendable. And your understanding our language will make things a lot smoother. Could you give us the contact information for your parents? There are some things we need to discuss."  
"Like?"  
"You were caught in the middle of a covert military operation: the robots you saw are in disguise, the general population doesn't know about them, as is the case with most of everything else you have seen or overheard here."  
"I can keep my mouth shut, promise!"   
June stepped forward.  
"And we're glad to hear that, but we need your parents, or guardians, to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement for you, as well as let them know that you're all right and that you'll be returning soon. Don't you want that too?"  
She squirmed. Jack got a bad feeling.  
  
"Uh... I don't really... have parents? I could, like, give you my foster mother's number? Or the principal's e-mail?"  
June, to her credit, didn't even blink.  
"That would do wonderfully." Pax made a noise of agreement. "Meanwhile, since it is late, you'll need someplace to sleep; it's only going to get colder in here."

"She can stay in 03's quarters."  
Pax and June turned to stare at Kevin. Jack glanced from one to the other, confused.   
Kevin crossed his arms, stony-faced.  
"It's got a bed and a bathroom, and it's right across the corridor from mine. And it's not like it's being _used_ , anyway, except as a place to store junk."  
  
"Very well. In that case, you will continue to be her guardian as long as it is necessary. Is that all right with you?" 01 asked them both.  
04 nodded sharply. The girl looked at him critically.  
  
"Your fight was awesome, and your robot's super cool," she said. "Also you snore, like, really loudly." Despite none of those being relevant deciding factors, she seemed to find the proposition acceptable, and edged closer to the man.  
"During your stay, your cover story is that you're an exchange student from Japan. It shouldn't reveal to be necessary, given that you will hopefully go back tomorrow, it is just a precaution on the off chance you come into contact with someone outside the base. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir!"

* * *

The next day, Fowler exited the elevator in his usual harried fashion and dumped a folder on the table.  
"You sure picked a good one, 04. Check this out: Miko Nakadai, 14, born December 5th 1996, been in foster care since basically day one. Tried contacting her school; guess what? That thing the Cons were after made a fantastic kaboom afer you left, wrecked the entire area. The forces already have to transfer 400ish students and about five thousand more residents and the school's insurance apparently doesn't cover 'volcano eruption' or whatever. Foster home wasn't expecting her back for at least another four months, more likely eight. They're practically _begging_ us to keep her for the time being."  
  
"This is a _military_ _base_ , not an orphanage! What on earth are they thinking?"  
Fowler shrugged.  
"Apparently, that we do more of what we've been doing already. Keep her in Jasper, pretend she's an exchange student to enroll her in the local school, blah blah. Or have her take online courses. From what I understood."  
Combs got up and left towards the repair bay muttering insults under his breath, it apparently still being too early for him to unleash one of his characteristic tirades. Then they heard him yell from the corridor.  
"What is she doing in the control room _again_!?"  
  
The girl-- Miko-- was in fact, once again, in the hangar, and she was crouching in front of Bulkhead's vehicle mode.   
More astonishing was the fact that the brawler didn't seem to be doing anything to discourage her: aside from a superficial layer of uncomfortableness, he seemed almost... pleased? Ok, that wasn't suspicious at _all_. Kevin glared his partner, just daring him to try something, then went over and tugged the girl away from Combs's warpath.  
  
"I've got... so many questions!"  
"Of course you do," 00 said disgustedly. He spied Jack peeking out over the platform-- at least this one wasn't literally underfoot-- and waved him down.  
"Well, since it appears that for some imbecilic reason you are to be staying here for the forseeable future, a short tour wouldn't be amiss. There are many, many dangerous things around you, since, I repeat, this is a _military base,_ and you better not be going anywhere near them after this, understood? First rule: _stay away from the center of the floor,_ for God's sake. Now come along. What were these questions?"  
  
Miko nearly tripped herself in her haste to match 00's pace; Jack had to rush to catch up.  
"Ok, ok, why is it that his robot--" she turned to Kevin "--sound like him, but _his_ \--" she pointed at Orion, who had just joined the party "--doesn't?"  
00 raised an eyebrow, a bit impressed at her observational skills despite himself.  
"That's what you want to know? The 'robots'--" he made finger quotes at that "--take on the voice of their first pilot, and it never changes afterwards. Richardson is B-04's first pilot. Pax is B-01's second. Optimus still has the voice of his first." He wondered, sometimes, if the mechs felt the same way about their pilots as humans did. Translating Ratchet's stream of consciousness was quite difficult when regarding certain topics.   
Almost as if he had read his mind, Orion spoke up.  
  
"We prefer to call the units 'mechs'. Although calling them 'robots' isn't wrong, per se, it implies a lack of personhood: they are intelligent and sentient, although very different from us. Their technical designation is Autobots: 'Autonomous Robotic Organisms'."  
  
They were walking past the portal now.  
"This is the groundbridge, a piece of technology that allows instant travel to anywhere on Earth; it is also highly dangerous, as it constantly emits alpha, and sometimes beta particles, especially when active..." and for the next half hour, the elderly pilot lead them through the base, pointing at things and listing all the horrible injuries they could inflict if looked at the wrong way. At length, they arrived at the end of the corridor and were about to turn around, when--  
"Is that a half-built one? Coooooool." She was leaning around the B-10 bay doors.  
"Ehp ehp ehp! What did I just say about not entering unmanned areas?" Combs snatched her by the collar and dragged her away like a rowdy kitten, as he had started to do by the third time she had gotten a bit too close to something he didn't like her being close to.

"I have a question too," Jack spoke, for the first time since they started the tour. "I mean, I already know more or less what's going on, but why? Why are a bunch of robots attacking Earth?"  
  
00 sighed, and adjusted his glasses. This was the type of question he had been expecting.  
"I don't know if you remember the strange weather patterns of the year 1996, you would have been two or three at the time. Those were actually ion storms caused by the repeated use of warp technology. The entire planet was under attack, by an alien race we came to call 'Quintessons'."  
Miko's eyes went wide.  
  
"Wait, for real? Like, an actual _alien invasion?"_  
"Yes. Fortunately, we managed to stall them before they got to Earth, but our defences were crumbling fast: that's when scientists came up with two revolutionary machines: spacebridges, and the Cortical Psychic Patch. At the time, they felt like God's gift from above. We used the CPP to directly transfer consciousness into mechanical bodies, and the spacebridges to send them out to the front. They performed admirably, and managed to push the invaders back."  
  
"These were the A-units. The first series of mechs ever created. They are the ones that are now attacking us."

____________________________

Somewhere, still far away from Earth, but closer than they had been since forever, a faceless mech walked up to his commander with a voiceless enquiry.  
**"Unanchored spacebridging is dangerous and resource-consuming. Those transmissions are likely to simply be interference from the asteroid belt; I would _hate_ to waste the energon.** **Unless... you are absolutely certain?"  
**  
The communications officer nodded.  
**"Urgh. Then lock on transmission coordinates, and activate the bridge!"**

  
____________________________  
  
"But _why_? Why did they turn on us?"  
"The As were built out of desperation, to counteract a massive invading force. The only thing important back then was to make them as powerful and deadly as possible: everything else was secondary. In short, some... miscalcalculations were made."  
"They are living weapons. They were built for one thing only: war. And when the war was over and our enemies defeated, they wouldn't stop. They _couldn't_ stop." Here Jeff paused, exhaling slowly. "Some people thought they could be... reasoned with. And at first, it did seem like that was the case. But now we know better; those people are dead."  
He stopped, seemingly unable to continue. Pax picked up after him.  
  
"That is why the second generation was created with the prime directive to protect, in defense of humanity. And now that the Decepticons are arriving on Earth, it seems like their help will be needed more than ever; we thought the Decepticon's leader died ten years ago, leaving them without a head. But their recent activity suggests that they are preparing for an attack, which means he might have survived."  
  
"Their leader?"  
  
"A-01."

______________________  
High above, empty space rippled and tore open; the two commanding mechs stood at attention, their army behind them.  
A lone figure appeared amongst the wavering, unanchored energies, then splintered, reshaped, and landed on the deck with an impact that shook the entire warship.  
**"Decepticons! I HAVE RETURNED."  
**  
______________________  
  
  
"... _Megatron_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory exposition chapter.  
> Seriously, the hardest part of this story was always going to be inventing a reason for the kids to stay at the base and have it be somewhat believable (don't examine it too closely though, I have a feeling it won't stand up to inspection).  
> Oh, and if you didn't realize this already, this story's gonna have a lot of Miko in it, because she's my favourite human and I just can't help myself.
> 
> The mechs so far:
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02:???  
> B-03:???  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05:???  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07:??? (it's obvious though)  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09:???  
> B-10:??? (also pretty obvious)
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: ???  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: ???  
> A-05: ???  
> A-06: ???  
> A-07: ???  
> A-08: ???  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speech Key:  
> "normal": Humans speaking.  
>  _"italics"_ : Speaking through comms.  
>  **"bold"** : Mechs speaking/humans speaking through mechs.

**"My liege, it is wonderful to see your return! During your absence, we have been bringing the Nemesis closer to our quarry: already it appears before the bow as we speak!"**  
  
**"Indeed, Starscream. But our objective lies beyond Earth, for now."** The huge mech turned towards his TIC. **"Soundwave. Our esteemed colleague should have already sent the plans from that planet; have they arrived uncorrupted?"**  
The silent con tilted his head in assent. The other stared at him disbelievingly.  
  
**"Master, you can't be serious! It would take a motherlode of energon to power it, and for what? Most of our forces are already stationed here, on the Nemesis!"**  
Their leader loomed over him.  
**"It seems that my time away has made you forget just who is in command here, _A-04._ You would do well to remember your place."** He stepped back. **"But yes, you are partially correct. I do believe the drones haven't been idle these past years?"**  
Starscream shook his ruffled wings out.  
  
**"Yes, my liege. They have located quite a few veins, this one--"** he gestured at Soundwave, who brought a map up on his face-screen **"--being by far the most significant; they have been mining without pause long before our final jump, and have since ammassed quite a stockpile."**  
A-01 smiled.  
**"Good."** He strode into the main control room. **"You might find that your assumption on the magnitude of our forces is mistaken, Starscream. Much as you have been working on transporting our flagship across space, I have found a way to increase the strength of our soldiers. Behold."** And reaching into his subspace pocket, he drew out a chunk of faintly glowing, purple-hued crystal.  
The flier recoiled in disgust.  
  
**"Is that--"**  
His leader's grin widened into something full of teeth.  
**"...Dark-En? Master! You and I both know of its effects on the soldiers! At length it tore them apart from the core; using it ourselves... it would be madness!"**  
**"We only require a test subject to be certain, A-04,"** 01 said softly. **"Are you offering yourself up for the cause?"** The other winced and raised his hands in front of himself, as if that would ward him from the miasma emanating from the rock. Megatron snorted and turned away.  
  
**"Those reports came from those burdened by their organic side; having no such limitations, I believe the damage this will cause us will be negligible. But, as a precaution, I will be testing it first on our more... _disposable_ assets. Our dear friend is already conducting more estensive tests and has been hard at work constructing an army with the remains of our fallen comrades."** Here he glanced back at him. **"Which is why we need the spacebridge running: unanchored warping is restrictive and poses far too many risks to be acceptable. Now that my intentions are clear, do you still believe them 'madness', Starscream?"**  
  
The mech laughed nervously.  
**"Of course not, my liege. I shall direct the Nemesis over the mine immediately!"**

* * *

  
An alarm went off in the hangar. It was quickly joined by the sirens of the search-and-rescue vehicle that roared out of the repair bay and down the corridor; the doors to the various rooms it passed slid open and their inhabitants spilled out, both mech and human, and followed it. It skidded to a stop in front of the main platform and 00 halfways fell out as it stood up and assumed its humanoid form, sirens and lights still going, and went over to the groundbridge controls. The Prime, close on his heels, turned around and said-- in the uninflected way bots did when they spoke aloud-- **"All units report to transfer/web-out. Pending."**  
Jeff climbed up the stairs, one ear pressed into his shoulder, and toggled the keypad on the console. The big screen lit up showing the world map, then zoomed in onto the US heartland where a bunch of enemy signals had converged.  
Jack-- who had leapt up the minute Arcee had done the same from her previously frozen position-- ran across the corridor to the 03 bay entrance, from which Miko's head was sticking out, and placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"What's happening?" She shouted over the din. "Are we under attack or something?"  
Jack made an overexaggerated shrugging motion and pulled her along the side of the corridor into the room where everyone was looking at the computer.  
"Whoa," he heard the girl say as the whistles finally shut off. "That's a lot of purple on that screen."

"Ladies and gentlemen," 00 said, "we have a code orange."  
"Combs, Ratchet, set the coordinates. Darby, call in the support teams." Two bridge technicians came in and went over to where the orange-and-white bot was fiddling with the controls.  
"I'm coming with you," June stated, standing on Arcee's palms; Orion glanced at the head engineer.  
"Don't engage in melee; stick to ranged, if that's at all feasible. And once your reserves drop below green, desist _immediately_ and return to base."  
June nodded stiffly, and 06 opened her chest panels for her to enter. Then she shook her head and glared at Jeff and Ratchet. **"You know, one of these days you're going to get a taste of your own medicine, and I will _laugh_ ,"** she said, and moved into position alongside 01 and 04 on the runway.   
  
"00, you're coming as well." The pilot looked up, surprised. "It is possible that the Decepticons have gathered at a big energy source, in which case Ratchet's enhanced anti-radiation screening will prove invaluable. We'll cover you."  
Arcee-- or June-- had obviously made some comment over comms, because Ratchet's plating flared up in offence and he scowled at them. Jeff twitched.  
"Understood."   
The two remaining pilots were picked up by their mechs and synchronized. The operators activated the bridge.

**"Move out!"  
  
**

  
"Wow," Jack muttered. It was quite impressive to see the full team mobilize: giant, brightly coloured robots vanishing into an event horizon. He turned to see Miko's reaction...  
  
...she wasn't there.  
He looked around himself frantically. She wasn't anywhere on the floor nearby, and hadn't climbed up onto the catwalk either, and the technicians were still bent over the controls-- a tiny figure popped up in front of the portal and vanished inside a millisecond before it shut.

Oh no. Oh _no_.

"Excuse me!" He yelled up at the two on the platform. "You need to reopen that! A girl just went through after them!"  
They glanced at each other, then shrugged in unison.  
"Should've kept her on a tighter leash," one snorted.  
"Can't reopen the bridge unless one of the pilots calls for it," said the other. "Sorry, kid. She'll probably be fine, though. The big guys aim at the other big guys, she's only gotta worry about not getting trampled."  
Well that was reassuring. Not.  
  
He rushed back to the house, trying to reach his mom through the cellphone. She didn't pick up (he hadn't really been expecting her to) and neither did Kevin when he tried with him, and he didn't know whether he could reach the bots themselves through their private frequencies, but maybe June had something in the house--  
  


He stopped dead in front of the door.   
He had an idea.   
A really, _really_ stupid idea. He couldn't believe he was actually considering it. But... he turned on his heel to look back across the corridor.   
Oh, his mom was going to kill him if she found out. Or she would blame herself, which was even worse. He dialled her one more time, and, once again, his call went to voicemail.  
  
He stood there in the deserted hallway between the two doors, staring at the phone.

And then he cursed and crossed over to the other side; the doors slid open without a sound, and he found himself in a part of the base he had never seen before. 

  
Smokescreen's still gray form towered above him. Jack grit his teeth, seized by doubt.  
It had been two years, after all. And even if the mech did accept him, would he also respect his conditions? His mom had regaled him with some rather horrific tales about what could happen during synchronization, and even if 07 was supposedly non agressive that didn't feel like much when the mech in question was designed for infiltration and combat. 

But it was either this or leave Miko alone out on a battlefield.

Not really knowing what to do, he knocked on the bot's chest, figuring that being polite wouldn't hurt. To his surprise, the plates parted, so he stepped inside (feeling like he was about to commit to something he didn't fully understand); the doors closed behind him with a clang that sounded of finality, and the floor dropped out from under him.   
  


Plunging him into the Drift.  
  
.

.

.

  
When he dared to open his eyes, he was met with nothingness. 

It felt like his body was suspended in some sort of liquid, neither warm nor cold and denser than air, yet he was still able to breathe like normal. He streched his arms out, trying to get an idea of the space around him, but if there was any end to it it was out of his reach; the gelatinous fluid hampered his motions, dragging at his limbs as he tested out his range of movement.   
"It's like a sensory deprivation chamber," June had told him once, on one of the rare occasions she had felt like talking about her job. "When you're in the Drift, you-- and your partner-- are going to have two sets of sensory imput, one from you and one from them. It's confusing... that's why it's made to suppress as much information from your end as possible. It makes it easier."  
He strained his ears, trying to hear something over the sound of his own heartbeat and beginning to panic: surely something should have happened already? He had seen the trainee pilots with 07: it hadn't even taken them five seconds to synchronize, however partial that synchronization may have been. If nothing was going to happen, he was just wasting time! He should have just argued more with the bridge technicians--

\--something poked him in the ribs.   
He stiffened and clapped a hand to his side, but whatever that had been had already retracted, merging back into the inky confines of 07's chest cavity.   
Then it poked him again, this time on his other side. A ripple went up his surroundings and he suddenly got the feeling, despite the complete darkness, of being _watched_.

And then he felt an intense, foreign _curiosity_.  
**?You?** A thousand tiny hands all over him. Jack forced himself to stay completely still.  
**!You! !It's YOU!** And the world simply _exploded_ in colours and sounds, the feeling of exultance all around him ( **hahaha! I knew it! I WON),** gittery, boundless energy crawling up his arms and back, settling in his chest and jolting him (him?) from his position at his dock (not him. NOT HIM).  
"Wait. Wait!" Jack wasn't even sure if he was actually speaking now, or if it was just in his mind. Was it the same thing? He couldn't even tell where his body, his real body, was at this point, lost somewhere within his/their/the other's frame.   
His reluctance was like an elastic band, stretching until Smokescreen was straining against it like a tether; it made him trip over something and bang his shin on the edge of the staircase (Jesus he was BIG), and Jack actually _felt_ that. It was like something out of a fever dream.  
  
**????**  
"Listen! I-- this isn't... I can't..." This could only be a one-time thing. Get Miko out of whatever trouble she had gotten herself into and that was it. The team couldn't afford otherwise.  
**No.**   
" _Listen!_ You don't want me as your pilot. I've no idea what I'm doing, they do!"  
**I don't like them. They're boring.** Just who was he speaking to? A six year old?  
(...Actually, 07 probably _wasn't_ much older than that. Did bots age like humans? That was a disturbing thought; he hoped they didn't, for everyone's sake.)  
"I'm a horribly boring person," Jack said despairingly. "I keep a copy of the US constitution under my bed. I read Hegel's Phenomenology of the Spirit for fun. I would never go over 60 on the interstate!" That last one seemed to have an effect, if the wash of outrage was anything to go by, but it was quickly overtaken by mulishness.  
**NO.**  
  
If he hadn't been in the Drift, he would've banged his head against a wall.  
"Ok. Let me go, then." The urgency returned with vengeance. "I don't _need_ your help, and I don't have the time to argue with you, so let me go!" And he really hoped that 07's 'prime directive to protect humanity' was stronger than his stubbornness, because it could very well be Miko's life on the line.   
The tiny little arm-hand-things tightened around his middle, and Jack was suddenly aware of his own body again. He thrashed against their hold, anxiety mounting. How had he thought that this would be a bad idea? 07 was a giant, alien being meant to fight _war machines_. This had been the _worst_ idea.

But then the mech flared reluctant acceptance, ebbing into the background, and his grip loosened. As if that had been the anchor, Jack lost contact with his physical self again.  
  
  
And he/they were catapulted back into the bay.   
  
Their shin was still vaguely stinging. It probably had a dent. Jack shook their head, dazed from the multiple switches from nothing to everything and how quickly 07 had changed his mind; he took a tentative step forward.  
It seemed fine? It just felt like... walking. He sent a general, wordless enquiry towards Smokescreen, and recieved an image of a strangely familiar silhouette giving a double thumbs-up.   
All right then.

They hurried to the groundbridge. The technicians looked at them oddly.  
**"Backup,"** he explained-- and wow, hearing a different voice coming out of his mouth was _weird_ \-- but they seemed to buy that and moved to reopen the portal.  
  


He just hoped they weren't going to be too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Pictured: Smokescreen's no sense of personal space.
> 
> I thought writing Optimus was hard. Lemme tell you, he _pales_ in comparison to Megatron and Starscream. Yeesh. (You can tell that whoever was in charge of writing the dialogue for them was having fun, lol).
> 
> I've never written Smokescreen before for some reason? I really like him (I started out DISliking him, actually, but he grew on me like nothing else), so it's kind of strange he never came up before. Ah, well.
> 
> The mechs so far:
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02:???  
> B-03:???  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05:???  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07: Smokescreen  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09:???  
> B-10:??? (pretty obvious though)
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: ???  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: Starscream  
> A-05: ???  
> A-06: ???  
> A-07: ???  
> A-08: ???  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speech Key:  
> "normal": Humans speaking.  
>  _"italics"_ : Speaking through comms.  
>  **"bold"** : Mechs speaking/humans speaking through mechs.  
> 

They emerged somewhere dark; the portal and its harsh backlight shut behind them, allowing their eyes to adjust. The operators hadn't dumped them right on top of the battle, which Jack was grateful for, but judging by the sounds it wasn't far away: in a couple strides the narrow tunnel widened into a big cave where... a _lot_ of stuff was happening. 

Laser beams ricocheted off stone and occasionally hit piles of energon, erupting in shrapnel and toxic fumes-- dozens of miner and fighter drones scurried, carrying the cubes to safety and shooting at what Jack presumed were the 'Bots-- he couldn't see them, bright colours swamped by a sea of black and purple-- the Prime burst out, roaring, from a pile of corpses and swung his gunsword in a glittering arc, 00 behind him, using one as a shield-- where was _Miko_ , squishy thing surrounded by warring behemoths-- 04 using another as a blunt weapon, 06 up on the scaffolding, sniping enemy mechs from above-- an explosion close, _way too loud..._

All of it was too loud. Too fast. The colours oversaturated. And he wasn't even in the middle of it, just staring down at the mess.  
**Live fast,** Smokescreen told him. **That's how it always is. Not always colourful. Today's pretty. Bright.**  
The way he said it, he could've been talking about the weather. That made it better: he didn't know what he would've done if they'd both been panicking.  
"Do you have a way to find a human in all of this?"   
**DNA imprint trail. Need to get closer.**  
He drew in a breath. Let it out.  
"All right. But we need to stay out of sight." He didn't feel like testing 07's luck.  
**Ninja,** the mech agreed despite his obvious disappointment, and they scrambled down from the ledge.  
  
The confusion didn't feel as overwhelming once they were inside it; Smokescreen really _did_ live fast, matching the pace of the chaos surrounding them with ease, and saw everything, felt everything in high contrast and detail, and in so many ways the human body didn't that Jack's brain was having a hard time relaying their meaning: many things it found untranslatable simply became colours, which is what it did for the genetic trail they were tracking. It showed up as bright pink (appropriate), weaving in an out amongst rocks and sticking close to the wall.   
If nothing else, she had at least listened to Combs's advice.  
They glanced over at the fighting from time to time, both to make sure that no one had noticed them and none of their own had gone down: the drones seemed more vicious than usual. The trail headed up towards the entrance of the mine-- had she gotten out?-- but then he saw the lift, and where the pink particles ended.  
  
Jack grit his-- 07's-- teeth, and crept up to the tube after edging around the cavern until they was blocked from view by its bulk.  
**"Miko!"** He hissed. The girl started, not having seen them approach.  
"Oh, it's you."  
**"Get out of there. You're going to get killed!"**  
"I'm going to get _out_! Once this thing is filled with these weird cubes, they send it up to the surface, I've seen them do it!" Oh god, the _energon_. He got inside, crouching behind the cubes, and picked her up.  
**"Don't get close to that stuff, it's _radioactive_! I'm calling for a bridge."**

The tube-lift activated. 

They froze, staying low and faced away from the crystals, pressing the girl against their chest.   
They reached the surface. They rose past the surface.  
**"I thought you said this thing lead to the surface,"** he growled, but Miko was just staring up at the goddamned _spaceship_ they were being drawn into, and yeah, he supposed he could be mad at her later, _after_ they'd somehow survived through this. Because they _would_. 

They reached the top. Five guards with blasters at the ready were waiting to unload the shipment, and there was no way in hell they were going to slip by unnoticed. And the minute they saw them, they would to be toast.  
**Press B to Phase Shift,** Smokescreen said giddily, as if he'd been waiting years for that.   
What.  
**Intangibility. _Ninja_.**   
Oh. _Oh.  
_  
The guards moved forward; a weird sort of warm, tingly feeling bloomed in their chest and encompassed them; in their hands, Miko gave a full-body shudder. One of the drones spotted them and fired, prompting the others to do the same, and 07 vaulted over the energon cubes right before they went up in flames.  
The intangibility wasn't perfect: he could still feel the searing heat of the beams as they phased through him, and the force of the explosion and its dull roar made his teeth itch, but that was _nothing_.   
  
One of the drones actually hit another as they slalomed through; Miko-- white-faced and clutching their fingers-- _laughed_ , Jack felt similar hysteria bubbling up as Smokescreen hooted and crowed in the back of his mind-- **double back, duck, twist, outsmart them all, I'm the _best_ , no one can stop me**\-- and it was dangerous, he _knew_ it was dangerous, but he was full of the feeling one gets when they're at the top of a roller-coaster and beginning to fall and he wasn't strong enough yet to ground them both.

  
At some point, once the battle high had died down and no enemy presence showed in their vicinity, they stopped; Jack leaned them against one knee, panting-- drawing air in through their intercostal vents to cool them-- and Miko unpried herself from their digits.  
"That. That was so. _Awesome_ ," she breathed, starry-eyed. "Raincloud, you're so _cool_."  
Uh. That was a strange mixture of preening and annoyance.  
**"It's... Smokescreen."** She looked up at them in surprise.  
"Really? I was actually talking about your paintjob, like a nickname? Smokescreen's much cooler though. Is that why you're such a boring colour?"  
Definitely annoyance now, bordering on anger. The girl seemed to pick up on this, because she hastened to add, "Not that it's a _bad_ colour, you know, it looks really good on you!" _Stop talking._ Jack could feel a growl starting up in the bot's engine block.  
  
**"07's gray because his pilot's dead,"** they snapped, **"not because he was meant to be like this. My name is Smokescreen because I'm an infiltrator, not because I'm _colourless_." **At the end it was more mech than human speaking, and Jack fought to wrestle back control; Miko was curled up in their palm. Jack sent daggers at the other: _she didn't know, you idiot;_ 07 subsided and faded back into the background with a hint of apology.  
"I'm sorry," the girl whispered.   
**"I'm sorry too."** He shook their head. **"We need to find a way out before this thing takes off."**  
  
There were sounds of someone approaching, so they sank into the wall (making sure they weren't sticking out the other side) until only their face remained, and dimmed their eyes so their glow wouldn't give them away; a _huge_ \-- even from Smokescreen's perspective-- silver mech walked past, followed by a slightly-smaller-but-still-gigantic winged one, and he heard this one exclaim, **"Feed them more...!"** before turning the corner. Whatever that meant. Once they was sure they were gone, they ran down the hall in the opposite direction and found themselves in a control room where a screen was displaying schematics of some kind.  
07 perked up in interest. Weapon plans, maybe? Was there a safe way to download them from the ship's mainframe? 

A click; he flinched. Miko had somehow managed to keep her(?) cellphone on her all this time, and had just taken a selfie of them. Of _all_ \-- he opened their mouth, then closed it, considering.  
**"Wait. Take another picture."** "Huh?" **"Of the screen. Take a picture of the _screen_."**  
"Oh, yeah, that makes sense," she said with realization, and did.  
**"Good. Now perhaps we can--"** he didn't get to finish that sentence: more guards burst into the room and began blasting. Because of course the five on the loading platform had sounded the alarm. _Stupid_.  
The shots phased through them again, since he hadn't turned the shifting off since activating it the first time, and they bolted, with Miko yelping from the whiplash.  
  


As they sped down the corridor, a little light appeared on the top left of Smokescreen's field of vision.   
No, not Smokescreen's field of vision. _Jack's_. Their sight aligned so perfectly it seemed as if the icon were floating in front of 07's eyes instead of appearing on his inside HUD as it actually did.   
It was a tiny orange box with + - signs. Low battery? What did _low battery_ mean for a giant car robot, exactly? Was Smokescreen about to power off? Was he about to _die_?  
**Not low fuel. Low _battery_. Shifting drains power,** and wow, he would have preferred to know that _before_ spending a good ten minutes wasting battery life.  
"How much longer can you keep it on?" **One minute.**  
Shit.  
  
They rushed into some sort of maintenance bay where another twenty or so drones were stationed, who immediately began shooting at them too-- Jack wasn't even registering all the beams that passed through them anymore, noticed the green emergency strips on the floor (he hoped they were emergency strips, he couldn't think of anything else they could be) and began to follow them-- **30 seconds.**

More drones appeared, but Jack didn't give a flying fuck this time and ran right through them; they ended up targeted by their persuers. He saw the end of the corridor approach-- the icon turned red. **10 seconds.**

He reached the end, jumped off, and was airborne, the ground rushing towards them at terrifying speed-- he curled around the girl, bracing themselves for impact...

...and hit the ground in the softest way imaginable, being barely slowed down as they passed through it and into the cavern underneath.  
  
  


Smokescreen's battery died about ten feet off the ground.   
Just high enough, in fact, to completely obliterate the drone that was about to land a dirty hit on a distracted 04 and 06, because apparently physics still applied and it got juggernauted by five tons of metal going at approximately 30 m/s. It also cushioned their fall enough that 07 only jarred his knee joints a _little_ bit.   
He checked Miko anxiously. She seemed fine, if scared out of her wits.  
  
Bulkhead and Arcee were staring at them. Whoops.  
  
**"Er."** He gestured towards Miko, as if that would explain everything. **"I saw her walking through the portal? I couldn't reach you through comms, so I thought it best to come get her myself?"**  
Bulkhead's look of exasperation was going to become a Thing. He just knew it.  
**"Miko--"** they were interrupted again by more drones.  
**"Just bridge back to base! We'll debrief you later!"**  
  
He nodded; an event horizon opened in the mine.  
  


_Never again,_ Jack swore, and stepped through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept slipping into present tense this chapter. 
> 
> Phase shifting is so OP, I _had_ to give it some sort of drawback XD.  
> Btw most of the Iaconian artifacts aren't going to be fought over: they're either incorporated into the bots themselves, or the two sides already have them. _Mostly_.  
> But yeah, in this AU Smokey's basically a robot ninja/spy, because that's the kind of story this is. Poor Miko's gonna take a while to recover from this (actually no, she's gonna bounce back immediately and sneak through more groundbridges).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speech Key:  
> "normal": Humans speaking.  
>  _"italics"_ : Speaking through comms.  
>  **"bold"** : Mechs speaking/humans speaking through mechs.  
> 

Jack lowered Miko gently onto the couch and trudged down the corridor. Exhaustion had hit the minute they had got back, as it turned out having a dead battery was the mech equivalent to pulling an all-nighter: he could still sense Smokescreen nudging against his mind, but there was a definite unfocused, muzzy feel to him now, and his senses weren't nearly as sharp as they had been.  
He slotted him back into his dock. All systems powered off and he was back to being just a tiny, fleshy human being floating in darkness; pressure built around him, he shot up and out of 07's chest cavity and was ejected onto the launch platform. He stumbled forward (his legs felt like jelly) and turned to face the mech.  
He was just as steel-gray as before.

"Thank you." Smokescreen didn't do anything to acknowledge him, but he felt like it needed to be said; he left him to recharge.

  
Miko looked at him oddly when he got back; his legs still felt weird-- a bit like when, as a kid, he'd spent five hours on roller-skates and after it had felt like the ground was still moving underneath him-- so he sank down on the sofa next to her, tilting his head back on the cushions.

"I didn't know you were a pilot too."  
  
He stared at the ceiling dully, racking his brain for anything incriminating he could've said in the mine.  
"How."   
"You told me. Just now."  
He lolled his head to the side to look at her; she stared back, mouth curling into a small smile. Not having the energy to do anything about it, he resumed his initial position.

"I'm not a pilot. Smokescreen doesn't have a pilot. You know that."  
"Yeah, but you were pilot _ing_ him, weren't you? Same thing."  
He shook his head.  
"No. We weren't synchronized. You should see-- actually no, it's better if you don't-- but trust me, it's something else when real pilots and mechs drift. It's like they become one person. 07 just agreed to help me come get you since the operators wouldn't reopen the bridge."  
She wrinkled her nose.  
"You know I've been basically living here the last two days, right? I've heard those cadets talk, when they thought no one was listening. Smokescreen wouldn't let just _anyone_ drive him."  
Jack wondered idly if it was too late to pull the 'classified' card.  
"07 wanted me two years ago. It's part of why I'm here. My mom was selected as 06, and she chose to accept so I wouldn't feel like I had to."  
Miko fell off the sofa.  
  
" _Dude_! You're telling me you could've been part of the Giant Robot Fight Club and you said _no_? What's _wrong_ with you! You would have been living literally everyone's dream!"  
"I was _fifteen_."  
"So?"  
Jack glanced at her, irritated.  
  
"Pax isn't the kind of person who would want teenagers risking their lives, since he's, you know, a _decent human being_. He didn't even want _mom_ on the team because of me. Besides, have you seen the cadets? I think one of them is actually _black ops_ ; when I was fifteen I hadn't even been in a schoolyard fight." He was also a little terrified of the mechs, but he wasn't about to tell Miko that.  
"Why hasn't he picked one then, if they're so good?"  
...Apparently because they were boring, somehow.  
He shrugged, electing not to answer. The girl huffed and plonked back down.

"Well, if a giant robot asked _me_ to be their pilot, I would totally say yes." And he hoped that that would never ever happen. Also.  
"You can't tell anyone that I was the one in Smokescreen."  
"But _why_? You were awesome!"   
"Because mom is going to ground me until I'm thirty if she finds out. Just... please. Ok?"  
She crossed her arms, bewildered, but nodded. Just in time, because that's when the bridge reopened and the rest of the team came barrelling through.  
  
**"Shut it!"** The technicians hit the kill switch, but they still all felt the shockwave that blasted through behind them; Jack ran to meet them, jelly legs forgotten.  
"What _happened_?"  
**"'Cons blew up the mine."**  
**"That's not the only thing they did,"** 00 said darkly, examining the piece of... plating?... he was holding. **"You two. Start the purge cycle. Only ten minutes, because who knows when we'll have to transfer out again. And the rest of you need to go decontaminate _stat_." **  
Jack nudged Miko and glanced at her pocket purposefully.  
"Wait!" Ratchet stopped mid-stride.  
**" _What_ ,"** he snarled. She waved her phone at him. "I, um, kind of endedupontheshipbyaccident BUT I took a picture of their secret plans! Look!"  
He bent down skeptically, plucked the phone-- hilariously small pinched between his thumb and forefinger-- from her hands and squinted at it. His eyes widened and he tossed it back to her.  
**"Send it to the base's mainframe. Bluetooth it or whatever, I'll give you clearance just this once."** He hurried out of the room carrying the plate.  
  


Mechs trickled back into the room one at a time, dripping water and solvent; the Prime came in first, brought up the picture on the main screen and studied it for a moment.   
**"Miko, do you know where 07's pilot went?"** She froze.  
"Uh, no sir, not at all. Of course not. I don't even know who he, I mean they, are." Pause. "Why would _I_ know?"  
Jack just barely refrained from facepalming. _How was she such a terrible liar?_ 01 squinted at her for one eternal moment, nodded, and turned back to the monitors. Miko stood there looking like she just had several years of her life shaved off.  
  
**"Is that a spacebridge component?"** 04 asked, frowning up at the screen.   
**"Yes. It appears as if we can finally shed some light on Megatron's intentions. I'm afraid that, adding this to the other evidence gathered today, the resulting picture appears rather grim. B-00, have you finished analyzing the sample?"**  
**"Yes I have. And it's as we feared."** He pointed at the results on the console.  
**"Dark-En."** 06 murmured.  
**"Dark-En,"** 00 agreed. **"And it appears as if A-03 and his associates have figured out a way to make it work somehow. Even if it's a one-shot, that won't stop them: they've always viewed the drones as expendable. And this could feasibly turn every single one of them into walking, toxic death-traps."**  
**"We must stop them from reactivating the spacebridge: having a stable portal would enable them to bring the entirety of their army through, and also provide them with constant access to Dark Energon. Does the groundbridge still operate at maximum range with full capacity?"**  
**"Of course."**  
**"Then we will bridge into orbit and plant charges on the inner ring, destroying it past the point of repair."**  
**"Just like the good old days,"** 04 muttered, and retreated into the hall.  
  
"PRIME!" Agent Fowler's face filled the screen. "The Cons are up to something--" ( **"You don't say,"** Ratchet snarked) "-- New Mexico. Jansky Very Large Array. Have any clue as to _why_?"  
**"Targeting system,"** 06 breathed. **"You need pinpoint accuracy to operate an anchored spacebridge, don't you?"**  
**"And that means they're already setting their plans into motion. Agent Fowler, we'll rely on you to keep the civilans in that area safe: we must bridge into space immediately."**  
The agent nodded curtly and hung up.  
  
**"I'll stay behind,"** 00 said. **"The Cons will hack into the Array: I can stall them, but I don't know how much time I will be able to buy you."**  
04 reappeared carrying a large crate.  
**"I had a feeling these would come in handy at some point."** The Prime checked its contents and gave his assent.   
**"All understood, all units ready for transport?"** The three stood up on the runway and braced. **"Launch us!"** He directed that last one to the bridge operators, who saluted and activated the bridge at maximum power. The hairs on Jack's neck rose.   
  
There was a flash of bright light, and they all disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And he hoped that that would never ever happen."  
> I'm sorry, Jack. We all know that that's Most Certainly going to happen.
> 
> The reason why this chapter's so (relatively) short is because this and the last were actually meant to be just one, but it was reaching ridiculous (for me, anyway) lengths, so I decided to cut it in two. Besides, I think it flows better this way? Or something.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speech Key:  
> "normal": Humans speaking.  
>  _"italics"_ : Speaking through comms.  
>  **"bold"** : Mechs speaking/humans speaking through mechs.  
> 

For the next half hour, a tense stillness pervaded the hangar, the only sound being Jeff (he'd unsynchronized the second the team left) tapping furiously on the keyboard, with Ratchet plugged into the mainframe looming over him. Minutes ticked by. Miko bit her knuckles. Jack was tempted to pace but felt like that would distract the engineer, so instead he stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to count water stains on the ceiling.  
  
Jeff cursed, very loudly and abruptly. The two teens jumped.  
"Ratchet--" the mech's emergency lights lit up "--we _both_ have A-bloody-02 on the other end, what do you _think_ \-- the firewall, run backup on the _FIREWALL_." The program exploded with dozens of error messages and crashed; the orange-and-white 'Bot staggered back a couple of steps and yanked his cable out.  
" _Ratchet_!"   
The mech clutched his head and hissed at his pilot, who had abandoned the computer and was leaning over the rail; Jeff adjusted his glasses.  
"Have you been compromised?" He asked with contrived calm; he was obviously answered in some way, because he lost his white-knuckled grip on the bar and turned to the console, which was booting back up.  
"Well, I suppose that's... huh?" The script had finished reloading, and not only seemed to be still holding up, but was indipendently generating new lines of code. 

**"Third party,"** Ratchet said, somehow conveying disbelief despite his flat tone. **"Aiding."**  
"...A miracle." The bot moved to reattach himself. "No no no! I'm not having you _hacked_ , you hear me? Bolster your defences and move the OW1-IP to the Himalayas. _I'll_ take on 02." Ratchet's lights flashed in an angry pattern and he plugged back in anyway; Jeff made a noise like a wounded animal but kept his eyes fixed on his work. 

A couple more minutes passed, accompanied by the whine of the Ratchet's fans, then the entire screen went blue and then dark. Jeff leaned back on his chair.  
"Orion. Hurry. 02 got in." He was answered by a burst of static. 

Miko edged closer to Jack and tucked an arm around his. He pressed it against his side, and they both stared at the communications panel.

_______________________

 _"Orion. Hurry. 02 got in."_   
**"Activate the timers and disengage!"** They all jumped back as the portal's surface rippled and glowed, aquiring an almost watery appearence; the Nemesis appeared on the horizon, a dark speck against the sun. 01 ran towards it on the spacebridge's ample airstrip unsheathing his gunblades.  
**"OPTIMUS!"**  
The A-series's first of line shot towards him.   
**"Open the bridge! "**  
  


  
The 00s were galvanized into action; Jeff shoved the bridge operators away, entered the coordinates and yanked the lever himself; Ratchet climbed up onto the runway and crouched like a rugby player waiting for the kickoff.   
  
They came in hot; Ratchet caught Bulkhead and Arcee as they flew past, nearly getting pancaked for his trouble; Jeff didn't even need to close the portal: the concussive force on the other end made it collapse on its own one millisecond after the Prime made it through, the heat from pressure and friction warping and blackening his shoulder plates.  
"Orion!" Jeff leapt from the platform and scrambled up, keeping some distance from the robot pile on the floor. 01 leaned down, caught his pilot as he fell out of the Drift and set him down next to elder.  
  


"Did... did you make it?" The other smiled tiredly.

"We made it."  
  


Miko whooped, punching the air; Jack leaned heavily against her, weak with relief (his legs had jellied again), and she shoved him off before turning to hug him properly.  
"What now? Was the Nemesis there? Do you think they've amassed enough resources for a counterattack? We'll need to inform the Agents--"  
"I don't believe they will immediately regroup and seek revenge: A-01 is most likely dead."

Jeff stared at him, eyes wide with hope.  
"...Truly?"  
"He was on the corona, only five feet away from the event horizon. I do not see how he could have survived. The Nemesis, however, was far enough that it could have made it out without sustaining any damage; A-04 may attempt to take on the mantle of leadership."  
Kevin and June climbed out of their respective mechs' chasses and went towards the kids, the blue pilot embracing them fiercely as soon as they got within arms' reach; Kevin shifted on his feet, indecisive, and Miko broke from the group to hug him too.  
00, 04 and 06 were still in a heap, seemingly unbothered by their contorted positions-- either content with being close to one another or too rattled to move; 01 kneeled on the floor beside them, at which point Ratchet noticed his shoulders, struggled out from under Bulkhead's not inconsiderable weight and began to fuss over him.   
"Undoubtedly."  
"In which case, Earth still isn't safe from the Decepticon threat: we can't afford to become complacent. But." He raised his gaze to encompass everyone in the room.   
  
"By removing their head, we have made great steps towards ending the war. And each and every one of you has played a vital role in this; I am proud to be a part of this team. Good work."  
  


* * *

  
**"Decepticons, it is with deep sorrow that I note for the log... Megatron... is no more."  
  
"All. Hail. _Starscream_."**  
  


* * *

  
"...containment teams in Nebraska to rope off the entire area for two months, engineer squads _again_ for all of them-- don't think I forgot about that, I _will_ check them all, cover story and contacts for Nakadai, the situation at the Jansky-- ah." Jeff stopped listing future problems to tackle and took on a pensive look.  
"Yes?" Pax prompted him.  
  
"When I was blocking Soundwave from angling the dishes, a third party appeared to help; if not for them, 02 would've likely hacked in earlier."  
"VLA personnel?" 00 shook his head.  
"Came from the outside, not in. Strangely novice too, despite being able to hinder the 'Con CCO: they left their own data trail completely visible, no VPN. I could pin their exact location if I wanted to."  
  
01 sighed.   
"Which means 02 could too. Very well, I will include that in the briefing. For now, return to regularly scheduled maintenance, in whichever order and manner you see fit. I'll contact 09 and order him to return to base."  
"Are you certain that is a good choice, with A-01 out of the picture?"  
"Megatron may be gone, but the Nemesis is still orbiting Earth housing hundreds of drones, as well as an undetermined number of A-units. 09 has massive firepower, second only to Optimus himself: it would be a mistake to keep him in space when the war is being fought planetside."  
  
"And anything to to keep the high command from getting nervous and breaking out nuclear warheads," Jeff muttered.   
"They might opt for railguns," Pax said neutrally, "but yes. I beieve this is the safest route, for everyone." He left towards the landing pad on top of the mesa, likely to meet the arriving agents; Jeff didn't envy him. He instead made his way down the corridor towards Arcee's bay: perhaps he could actually get to testing now that they weren't under red alert.  
  
  


  
_"B-06. We have the coordinates for the third party."_  
"Yes?"  
_"California. Eastern Plumas District Hospital."_ June frowned.  
"A _hospital_." She glanced at 00, who was pretending to not be interested in this new information. "And you're _sure_ you weren't misdirected somehow." Jeff's gaze had gone hard, likely thinking the same thing she was.  
_"Yes ma'am. The covert operators will take at least a day to get in and scope the facility. Do we wait?"_  
"Stand by." She turned towards the other pilot.  
"How high is the possibility that A-02 order an attack?"  
"High. In fact, if the situation had been different, I believe he would have already personally payed our little friend a visit: he has always liked... _keeping an eye on_ those he considers competition."  
"Big Brother is watching," she murmured. "And if those aren't the correct coordinates, he'll still be targeting a hospital full of civilians."  
  
06 tapped her chin.   
"Jeff. Ratchet transforms into an ambulance." He snorted.  
"If you think we could stand up to _Soundwave_ for more than five seconds, I'm afraid you're sorely overestimating our combat capabilities. Didn't you youself make a comment on 'rusted old geezers' yesterday, or something to that effect?"   
June grimaced. "I'm going to blame Arcee for that one. But I wasn't suggesting you stand guard. Could Ratchet get a more precise positioning of the source if he got closer?"  
"Down to one meter around whichever place it was last connected to the web, which doesn't help us much if it got destroyed or left behind as a decoy. You're suggesting that I go in myself? You are aware I'm not that kind of doctor, right? I don't have the credentials or the expertise to pull that off."  
"I am a certified nurse. I'll go in. You can hack into transmissions and report an arrival from... Seneca, and direct me through comms. With any luck, we can get a visual on your misterious helper."

"...Get the undercover agents to report the arrival to the staff. Chances are they'll sound more genuine than I would."  
  
  


  
They bridged through in 00's vehicle mode in an underpass at around 11 AM, in the lull between morning and noon rush hour, and drove towards the hospital. Two nurses and a doctor were waiting for them.

"Are you here to pick up the kid?" _Kid?_  
"We were hoping you could give us more information," June said carefully. The doctor ran a hand through her hair.  
"Some good samaritan found him and brought him in early yesterday morning, around six. He's covered in first to second degree burns, and he seems to have the symptoms of a concussion despite having no evident bruising. Since your call mentioned you were here to transfer a patient, we assumed his family contacted you."  
"How old is he?"  
"12, going by what's written in the notebook he was carrying."  
_No way, right?_  
_"06. The source should be on the second floor, in the room the end of the corridor to your right. Dedalus reads the name of the current occupant to be one Rafael Esquivel."_  
"Do you have a patient named Rafael Esquivel?"  
The doctor's eyes brightened. "So it is him! Right this way."  
She lead her up the stairs and down the hall to the last door, knocked, and entered. There was a boy of middle school age lying on the bed: half of his face, right arm and probably more was covered in bandages, and his spiky hair had a definitely singed look to it. And, innocently placed on the bedside table, was a laptop.  
_"That's it. That's the source."_  
  
The boy looked up when they came in and adjusted the thick-rimmed glasses on his nose.  
And then he spoke.  
  


"Are you with the Autobots?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you all thought I forgot about Raf, didn't you.
> 
> When I did my workstudy in the hospital they used Dedalus as a cloud archive. I know exactly nothing about how it works in America, so this all is probably super unrealistic, but then again this story has sentient Jaegers so whatever.
> 
> The mechs so far:
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02:???  
> B-03:???  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05:???  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07: Smokescreen  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09:???  
> B-10:??? (pretty obvious though)
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: Soundwave  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: Starscream  
> A-05: ???  
> A-06: ???  
> A-07: ???  
> A-08: ???  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speech key:  
> you know.

Shockingly, after that brief moment of panic ("He's been saying stuff like that all day... do you know what he's talking about?"), everything went smoothly. 00 planted a virus in the Dedalus to erase any information regarding Rafael Esquivel; 06 rolled him out of the hospital in a wheelchair carrying his backpack, even if he refused to let go of the laptop, and loaded him into Ratchet; Jeff drove them out. There were more vehicles around than before, since lunch hour was approaching, so he had to drive further out of town to get to some place isolated enough to bridge back.  
The boy was looking at her.  
  
"Am I being kidnapped?"  
Up in front, 00 choked.   
"No. You'll be free to go once we've checked you over and you've answered some questions of ours."  
There was a moment of silence. Then the boy frowned and looked around at the ambulance's interior. His face did a complicated series of motions, reactions flitting by too quickly for 06 to read them; he twisted to look at Jeff at the wheel, then back at June, and repeated the motion several times.  
"Um," he said, strangled. "Are we... are we actually supposed to be in here?"  
Now June was entirely lost.  
"What?"  
"You know," he gestured at nothing in particular. "Don't you?" His tone got slightly desperate. "Have I made everything worse? I don't know what I'm doing! I thought you did, I thought you were with the--" he interrupted himself and stared up at the ceiling again, bewilderdly.  
"Squishy processor malfunction? Who's zero-zero?"  
  
Jeff slammed the brakes so hard they nearly went skidding. Instead of bracing himself, Rafael inexplicably clapped his hands over his ears.  
" _How_ are you doing that?!"  
"Doing what?" both the others asked at the same time.  
"Jesus! Ratchet! How are you hearing everything Ratchet says?"  
Now it was the boy's turn to look lost.  
"You mean..." he waved at his surroundings again, "...it? Ratchet? Is that its name? You can't hear it?"  
"I don't hear anything," June replied.  
" _I_ do. Ratchet's cussing up a storm. And it's he. _He_. Not _it_. God. Only pilots can hear their mechs communicate through mind meld! What on earth happened to you, Esquivel?"

"Oh, so this is ok then?" He slumped on his chair with a relieved air. "Um, I think I saw one of you fight against the attacking robots three days ago. Some blue rocks exploded in my face, and when I woke up I could do all sorts of weird stuff." He opened his laptop.  
"I mean, the teachers said I was pretty good at beginner programming before, but now I can read code as if it were English. Maybe easier, actually."  
"Some energon exploded in your face," June repeated. Oh no. The explosion, the radiation, or a combination of the two had obviously affected his brain somehow, and that was not even considering all the other particular... _qualities_ the volatile substance had. Energon fission and combustion was part of what gave the mechs sentience, after all.  
"Well that's going to have to be checked," 00 muttered. "I'm 00, in case you were still wondering. And then I suppose you got curious about the giant robots and decided to snoop around for information."  
"There are some... videos, and pictures, on conspiracy sites. Most of the stuff I found was more than ten years old, so I wasn't sure, but then I intercepted a distress signal from the radio array in New Mexico, and their internal cameras showed this robot breaking in. I figured that he wasn't supposed to be there, so I tried to help stop him. I didn't manage for long." He actually looked _disheartened_.  
"You managed--" Jeff stopped and turned to face him.

"Rafael. You were able to resist _The_ robot spymaster. That puts you at the same level of the best hackers in the world: I'd say that energon did more to you than you think. We were the ones you were helping, you know. Ratchet and I." He glanced at the dashboard.  
"It's... a pleasure?" The boy looked at June.  
"I'm 06. June Darby. 00 is Jeff Combs. We are pilots for Unit E, the Special Units Division in Planetary Defence. Also known as the Autobots. All of our activity is kept secret to avoid mass panic, so that's why we had to come get you disguised as paramedics."  
"Oh," he squirmed. "Um, sorry for asking about the Autobots in the hospital, then."  
_This kid._  
"Don't worry about it."  
_Honestly.  
  
  
_

"What's this I hear about _another_ minor in the base! Are you planning on converting this outpost into an after-school club or something?"  
Fowler and 01-- both of them-- walked into the medbay, with the mech taking tiny, slow steps so as not to overtake them.  
06 didn't answer, too busy with the scanner; when Rafael saw the 01s, his jaw dropped and he actually gave a half-bow in his wheelchair as if adressing royalty.  
"Stay still," 00 groused. "01, meet our mysterious helper."  
Pax blinked. Optimus leaned forward slightly, peircing blue eyes zeroing in on the boy, who fidgeted.  
"Rafael Esquivel. Sir. Student-- er... programmer, I guess?"  
The mech tilted his head to the side lifting one eyebrow, then seemingly dismissed him and went towards Ratchet instead. Pax's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.  
"I see."

"Was he actually _answering_ \-- nevermind. I trust that I'll hear all about this later. You two," Fowler pointed at the teens lurking in the background, "you're going back to school in two days, starting this coming Monday."  
Miko groaned.  
"School? _Really_? We're in the middle of a robot war and you're talking about _school_?"  
Fowler was not sympathetic.  
"Education is important. We've gotten you enrolled in Jasper High as a transfer student; your cover story details are right here. Read them, study them, _internalize_ them." He handed her a small folder. "I've also got your excuse, Jack, since you're going to have been out for nearly a week. You and Ms. Darby had the flu: there's the doctor's signature on your clean bill of health, in case your boss wants it."   
He turned and motioned at 01 to come along; the pilot looked once more at Rafael, then at 00, then followed him back.  
  
06 finished her examination.  
"Well, it appears that you have no traces of lingering radiation. We still don't know what other side effects might result from your exposure to raw energon, though, since the changes are already quite significant." She glanced at Jeff. "I would recommend that you return periodically for checks, just to make sure that your condition doesn't deteriorate, but for now it appears quite stable. How long have those bandages been on?"  
"Since yesterday."  
"Due for some more moisturizer, then," she got up and headed towards the medbay. The three kids (and 00, who was pouring over the readings) were left in the maintenance bay in silence. Rafael looked around curiously.

"So what do the numbers mean, anyway?" Raf asked, nodding at the black 1-0 on the last room's double doors, the only one they had a clear view of from the maintenance/medical bay.  
"Those are the mech's numbers! Aren't they in order of rank? That's why the Boss Bot is 01, right?"   
"No," Jack answered. "Age." Jeff, who had been apparently listening in, snorted.

"If they were in order of the pilot chain of command, wouldn't I outrank Pax?"   
He tapped the double zeros on his chest, just barely visible under his lab coat. "Ratchet was the first prototype to pass the majority of the tests, which is why he's B-00. He didn't turn out to have a strong enough core to support ranged weapons, which is why he only rarely sees active duty. Probably why his old pilot's still kicking." He paused for a moment.   
"Optimus was the first fully battle-capable Gen 2 bot we ever managed to create, so he's 01. That's why he's called Optimus _Prime_. The 'first best'."  
"Woah." Miko's eyes went wide. "Does that mean there's _eleven_ bots out there?" She grinned. "That's so cool! I've only seen six of them! Where are the other five?"  
Jack winced.   
"08 died three days ago. The very day you arrived here, in fact." Miko went from excited to stricken.  
"B-02 was also destroyed, a long time ago. 09 and his pilot, on the other hand, are alive and well, and should return from sentry duty offworld soon enough that you'll be able to see them. 03--" 

"--03's dead too." They all turned to see Kevin in the doorway, carrying a stack of i-pads with a dark look on his face.  
"And 05's a turncoat."   
  
The girl's expression had morphed into something queasy, likely thinking about how she had been sleeping in a dead man's bed; 04 seemed to notice this, and changed the subject.   
"Hey, I was thinking to do something about that hair of yours." Miko's ex-roommate had really done her worst, and the stuff on her head looked more like an electrified mop than actual hair. "Once I'm done with this, would you like it if I tried trimming it into something neater? Or we could ask June later. She'd probably do a much better job."  
"Uuuh, sure?" She tugged on one of her locks, and followed him down the corridor.  
Jack glanced at Raf: the kid didn't look disturbed or even surprised, just a little sad. Well, it's not like he knew any of them.  
"Hey," he stuck out his hand. "I'm Jack Darby, by the way. Sorry if I didn't introduce myself before." They shook.  
  
"We'll be seeing more of each other from now on, I guess."

* * *

  
Pax and Fowler walked away from the hangar towards the elevator; as they did, the agent's face became serious. Once he was sure they were out of earshot, he turned towards Orion.

"Prime. The guys at DIA and the Pentagon are pestering me about the situation with 07. Cadet Anjo was their lead candidate, and for good reason: trained in covert operations for two years, 12 successful espionage missions under his belt, and has already made good progress with stunt driving and dual-blade wielding. On paper, he'd make the _perfect_ 07."

"For Smokescreen, the cadet's list of accomplishments isn't as impactful as you might think. They weren't Drift Compatible. It's as simple as that."  
"I _know_ that!" He rubbed his temples. "Uncle Sam's beard. _I_ know that, 01, but what am I supposed to tell _them_? They think the 'Bots are obedient dumb attack dogs, and I don't see you doing anything to correct them. I can't just say 'Oh, well, it appears the giant robot didn't like him enough, better luck with the next one'!" 

Considering their history, the reason the B-series existed in the first place, downplaying the mech's sentience-- once they had discovered they were sentient, because in the beginning even their creators hadn't known-- had seemed like the safer option.   
The units and the various outpost personnel made up a classified strike team that worked semi-independently from the government (since 'planetary defence' didn't involve any one nation), but their base's current location, and the fact that half their projects--including the mechs themselves-- had been funded by the american military made constant reports, inspections and questioning from them mandatory.  
"I believe honesty is best in this situation. The cadet experienced a form of disassociation in the suit, leading to his brainwaves falling out of synch with the baseline; the suit's emergency protocols read the phase displacement and triggered weapon systems shutdown."  
Fowler snorted.  
  


"Honesty. Right. You better hope he corroborates this tale of yours, Prime."  
  


* * *

_"B-09. This is Team Leader: Orion Pax; Unit B-01, designation: Optimus Prime. Abandon post and return to base. I repeat: abandon post and return to base. Code Orange. Over and Out."_  
  
...  
  
**_"...ver and Out."_ **  
  
*Click*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up until this chapter, Miko's hair was looking something like this:  
>   
> She looks even more like a gremlin than usual.
> 
> My rough draft for this chapter was more like "I need this, this and this to happen and I dunno how to do it", a list of things that had to be done opposed to actual scenes I had in my head, which is why it feels so stilted.  
> But whatevs. It's done.  
> Edit: the last part was actually supposed to be the intro for the next chapter, but I realized later it works better as an outro.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: vague mention of a cruel and unusual way to die.

It had been four hours since the night crew had called lights out and powered down three quarters of the base. The green low-lights made most areas bright enough to see while also not disturbing those who were sleeping, but, not having a distinct direction, also gave everything a surreal feel, turning the base's OSHA radiation stripes acid and gray and making shadows muddled.  
  
Miko pulled on a pigtail, staring out of the window into the corridor. Both Kevin and June had tried their best to make something pretty out of her hair, but even after evening it, it still stuck up in every direction as if licked by a cow; in the end, 04 had given up and styled the short bits into lotus-flower pigtails that were actually pretty rad.  
Raf-- as he'd re-introduced himself as-- could hear the 'Bots _talk_. What was up with that? He had gone home in the afternoon, accompanied again by 06 and 00 in a regular, non-sentient car. (Apparently, his family had only just realized he had been missing. That was kind of messed up.) Jack was also going back to his house the next day, which sucked... it was nice having someone not grown up around the base, even if he did act like he was eighty sometimes. At least he and Raf would still come by now and then... they would be seeing each other at _school_ , too, urgh.  
She traced shapes in the layer of dust on the windowsill. The base felt much, much bigger and emptier at night.  
It was also weirdly quiet.  
  
  
It had been four hours and four minutes since the night crew had called lights out, and Miko couldn't sleep. The space in the room occupied by boxes and extra machinery felt wrong. The shadows looked like they moved. It had gotten really cold after about an hour of no air conditioning; she had lain stiffly under the heavy blankets of... the bed... for some time before getting back up and putting on a hoodie instead.  
  
She stared out of the window at the open bay doors on the other side of the corridor, then laced up her boots and crossed over to 04's room.  
She hesitated in front of his house. Kevin had _implied_ that she could come to him if she needed anything, but... it was the middle of the night. She could stroll around the base until she got tired instead, it'd be fun exploring without 00 breathing down her neck. Even if it was creepy in the green light.  
A little creak sounded and she turned to see Bulkhead looking down at her from his dock, his eyes glowing brightly in the dark.  
"Oh. Sorry for waking you up. I'll just..." The mech detatched himself, transformed, and opened a door.  
"...Really? I won't bother you?"  
The door waved back and forth on its hinges as if beckoning her. She climbed into his back seat; it was a lot warmer in his cab, and the steady, low hum of his reactor drowned out the silence. There was also something about him that made him feel _alive_ , even in alt: he wasn't breathing, exactly, but the way he settled around her as she made herself comfortable felt similarly natural.  
"Goodnight," she yawned, and was out like a light.  


* * *

  
  
  
_"04, Decepticon activity reported in Silicon Valley, near Palo Alto. Code green."_  
Kevin groaned, rubbed his eyes and checked the time. Almost five. Not bad, he would've had to get up in an hour anyway. Nice of the 'Cons to wait for him to get a decent night's sleep for once.  
He found Bulkhead recharging in truck mode for whatever reason; he patted his hood.  
"C'mon, wake up. We've gotta break up a party. Again."  
  
Seriously though, this wasn't his kind of mission. 07 would be best suited for it but didn't have a pilot, 06 was on reduced hours until 00 finished looking over Arcee, and between him and Optimus he supposed he had slightly better camouflage. _Slightly_.  
  
(He just knew something was going to go wrong. He could feel it.)  
  
He/They-- this close to full synchronization the line started to blur-- bridged out in a wood on a hill, with houses strewn farther down. Fighting near a city. Wonderful. At least in California it was still black night and overcast to boot, so worst case scenario people would only see a spectacular light show which could be handwaved away as a blown transformer. Ha ha.  
And yep, there they were. Eradicons, carrying some sort of fragile-looking components. Were they stealing from the University? Well, whatever. He jumped in and began to fight.  
That's when things started to go wrong.  
  
He felt a strange tapping inside his chest, not where his human half was, but a bit higher. He deflected a shot with one forearm guard and returned fire. The tapping got more insistent.  
**"Well well well,"** came an unfortunately familiar sneer, **"if it isn't the puppets' resident oaf. Smashed something essential by accident recently?"**  
**"Yeah, your spacebridge. No, sorry, that wasn't actually an accident."** He twisted around and fired a couple shots at the other 04, who evaded them with reptilian grace. **"Have to say, I'm kind of disappointed: didn't you come up with any new insults in the past ten years?"** Instead of replying, Starscream dove towards him too quickly for his sensors to track.  
Despite his skeletal build, he was much taller: the A-series in general ran bigger than the Bs since most of them were fliers, and fighter jets tended to be at least twice the size of trucks; but his thin, nearly anorexic frame, while a boon in aerial combat, was absolutely horrible for brawling, which was exactly what B-04 had been built for: he flipped him over his shoulder and the other's claws only managed to rake his outer layer of armour.  
Something... thudded. Right on top of his head. What?  
  
No. This was still inside him. It was over _Kevin_ 's head. A muffled yell penetrated through the fog of the Drift.  
"...lkhead? Kevin? Hello! What's going on out there?!"  
They fell out of synch so fast it felt almost like a break.  
" _Miko_? What are you doing here?!" Kevin shouted up into the watery blackness. All around him, Bulkhead closed in with dawning horror. **I forgot.**  
"You _forgot_? How could you _forget_? She's _inside_ of you!"  
Starscream took the chance to fire a missile at them; distracted as they were, it hit dead center and his sensors flickered off.  
Only his vision rebooted, in time to see A-04 unsubspace some sort of taser and jam it right in the gap between his neck and shoulder plates. They fell unconscious.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
04's systems slowly came back online one at a time, then some flicked back off flashing error messages. **GPS: offline. Radio: offline. Inertial nav: enabled. No connection available.**  
Wherever he was, all transmissions were being jammed. Instead of opening his eyes, he sent out a sonar pulse, which bounced off the walls and coalesced into a 3-D representation of the room and part of the outside corridor.  
It was a small cell, and he knew the shape of that door: they were in the Nemesis's brig.  
  
_Miko_.  
His eyes snapped open.  
**"Miko?"** No no, not aloud. He split into two.  
"Miko," Kevin called. "Can you hear me?" There was movement somewhere above him.  
"Yeah! Where are we?"  
"Nemesis." There was a thunk followed by a muffled "Not _again_."  
That's right, she'd been on the warship before, hadn't she? If his sonar was correct, they were in the lower level, and lower meant closer to the exit; crono showed it had only been twenty minutes since A-04 had knocked him out, and in that time the INS hadn't detected any major relative movement. Which meant that they hadn't taken off yet.  
They were being restrained by stasis cuffs, so not much to do there: if he had a couple hours perhaps he could think up a way to weasel out of them, but time wasn't a luxury they had at the moment.  
"All right. Listen. You've got to get out of here, you hear me? We're in the lower levels, so you have to take a right outside the door, go down the corridor, wait for a patrol to open the blast doors if they're closed and then you'll be outside. Ok? Right, down the corridor, doors, done. Just stay silent and no one will notice you."  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Sure, I can do that. But couldn't you just call for help or something?"  
"02's blocking my commlink." The mech opened his chest panels.  
"But... what about you?"  
"We'll be fine, we're covered in tons of cybertronium. Once you get out, contact the base. Wait until you get out of range of the ship."  
"But--" there was a noise of someone approaching. He tilted forward so that she slid out, down Bulkhead's stomach and leg, and landed on the floor.  
**"Go!"** They hissed, and she disappeared right as the mighty bird himself came walzing in.  
  
Her worried face around the corner was the last of her he saw before Starscream shut the door and 04 fell back into synch.  
  
  
________________  
  
  
**"So,"** the 'Con drawled. **"Now that you're awake, I'm sure you've figured out the reason for your continued existence."**  
He glared; his counterpart smiled. The room juddered with the sound of the ship's engines powering up.  
**"You've probably also noticed that all your communications have been cut; the Nemesis is completely untraceable in flight: your teammates will never be able to come rescue you. You're all alone. You could make this so easy, you know?"**  
**"Just get on with it."**  
**"Well, if you insist,"** he leaned in closer until his red eyes were only a foot away from his own.  
**"Where is the location of your base?"**  
**"Up your afterburner."**  
He sighed. **"You know you're going to die in any case, don't you? Whether or not you tell me."** He dragged one claw from his collarbone down to the centre of his chest, and kept it there. **"I'm very precise, it wouldn't be so bad. You'd get to go together."**  
  
He grit his teeth. This was the greater reason why he'd wanted Miko out. Even in the middle of a war, he wished for her to retain some of her innocence. She didn't need to see someone get tortured for information (besides, she wouldn't have been safe anyway once A-04 started taking pieces off). He hoped she'd gotten out.  
~~(He knew she hadn't. There hadn't been enough _time_.)~~  
**"Do your worst,"** he snarled. Starscream grinned and circled around him slowly.  
**"Oh no, you misunderstand me. You see, I've already had the pleasure of dealing with one of you... Wreckers? Is that right? The problem with puppet people is that, after a while, the two sides start to... _disagree_."** The last word came out in a purr. **"And the best thing? All I have to do is _wait_."**  
He stepped back towards the door.  
**"Programmed to protect humanity,"** he tutted. **"Slaves to organics. Such a terrible fate. Such poor planning, too-- sound familiar? Sooner or later, one of you will be _begging_ me to put the other out of his misery, and will do _anything_ for it. Humans need sooo many things to stay alive, after all. Are you sure you don't want to tell me the coordinates?"**  
**"Go jump into a smelting pit."**  
The other shrugged.  
**"Pity. See you tomorrow, 04,"**  
And he left.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The guards obviously didn't expect a mech-less human to brave the maze of the warship, because not once did they direct their gaze any lower than ten feet off the ground. Which was quite fortunate, because that meant they didn't see Miko scurrying along the side of the corridor as she darted in and out of the stark shadows the pillars cast close to the wall. She had felt the tremors when the ship took off, but that was ok. She hadn't planned on escaping without 04 anyway.  
He couldn't use his comms and her phone had no signal, but what about the ship's? If she found an unsurveilled power terminal, perhaps she could contact someone at the outpost and give them their location. (Not through the base's computer, though, that would be a Bad Idea. Perhaps Jack's phone? The thing was older than dirt, she'd be doing him a favour giving him an excuse to blow it up afterwards.)  
  
Such a thing was, unfortunately, easier said than done.  
  
After wandering for a good half an hour, all the while managing to slip by three patrols, she wound up in front of the entrance to another brig, and if silence hadn't been paramount she would have screamed in frustration. How many prisoner blocks did the Cons _need_? Was it for _ambience_? She was about to turn back in disgust when she heard the telltale clanking of approaching guards, so she slipped inside to wait until they passed.  
  
With the gloom of the unoccupied area giving her a feeling of security, she spared a second to glance around at her new surroundings.  
Huh. It was actually a lot bigger than she expected. Partially because it appeared to be a single room instead of being divided into rows of cells. Maybe it wasn't a prisoner block, then?  
The rhythmic clanking of the drones had faded into the distance, but now her curiosity was piqued; after dithering for a moment, she made up her mind and ventured further in. There were human-sized stairs close to the door that lead up to a catwalk, that in turn _seemed_ (she squinted, trying to distinguish the shapes in the back) to go all around the perimeter, at a height that would put her at chest-level with most Eradicons. So was this a maintenance bay? Ex-maintenance bay? Maybe she could actually find something useful here... there! Red lights of an active control panel, near the very back.  
She got up onto the catwalk and hurried towards it, still trying to make as little noise as possible--  
  
She stumbled to a halt stifling a yelp.  
  
  
There was a _mech_ in there; the reason she hadn't noticed it before was because it was eerily silent and motionless, not even the slightest glow in its eyes.  
Was it... asleep? Recharging? She really needed to get out of there before it noticed her and sounded the alarms, or... shot her, or squashed her, or did something otherwise unspeakably horrible to her.  
Except...  
  
It honestly had the most beat-up frame she had even seen: its arms, legs and helm were littered with dents and scrapes, its battle-mask and what little she could see of its face were similarly battered, and it had two deep, partially welded, horizontal gouges across its chest, along with grooves that looked suspiciously like giant fingerprints. _Yeouch_.  
  
And, she realized as her eyes adjusted to the dark, it didn't have a single speck of colour on it. It was entirely grayscale.  
She relaxed infinitesimally. Unpiloted? She hadn't known there were 'Cons that had pilots. Something to pester 00 about when they got back.  
In any case, it didn't seem ready to jump up and attack her, looking like it had gone the wrong way through a trash compactor. Maybe it was dead. (She could almost feel its empty gaze on her.)  
  
The panel itself had a bunch of buttons, some of which were for outside communication, and they all lead to a master switch that read "Power" which was on OFF; there were what looked like embedded alarms in it, so she'd have to be quick. She took her cellphone out from her pocket, found Jack's number on her contacts list, and, with a bit of difficulty (it almost felt like it had been jammed into place), pulled the lever to ON.  
The room lit up, alarms began to blare; she dialled the number. _Pick up pick up pick up--_  
  
  
And then a huge hand came down on her and yanked her straight off the floor.  
  
This time she did scream. She screamed and struggled and lashed out, trying to reach the vulnerable un-armoured areas in its finger joints, but to no avail.  
  
  
The world spun, flipped upside down and went dark as the not-so-dead mech unceremoniously shoved her inside its chest and _locked her in._  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts out cute then goes from 0 to 100 in less than 1000 words. (It was still very long, and I was tempted to split this one too, but the only place I could didn't feel quite right.)
> 
> So. Imo S1 Scream was best Scream. I loved how he was cowardly, duplicitous, and with a chronic backstabbing disorder while also being cunning and ambitious and a very real threat. So that's basically what he's going to be like for the entire story, if I can manage it.
> 
> I can also tick 'Wrecker forgets about Miko and takes her somewhere dangerous' off my list. (So continues her journey to become traumatized. Why do I love torturing my favourites?)  
> (Yes, there's [a list](https://sta.sh/011w2nilq82h).)  
> In case you were wondering what a nuclear reactor sounds like: [Breazeale Nuclear Reactor noise](https://youtu.be/UxQdS0pbpKo?t=136). (It sounds like an airplane cruising at high speed.)


	11. Chapter 11

  
Jack's phone rang somewhere under his bed; he reached around blindly in the dark until he felt its familiar shape, winced at its blindingly bright screen and blinked at the called ID blearily. Unknown number. Urgh. He fell back face first into the bed. His contacts list was very short and he kept it regularly updated, so this was probably a telemarketer.   
Wait. Hadn't he given Miko his number yesterday?   
But why would she be calling at-- he glanced at the time-- six in the morning? She could've just as easily walked two bays across the corridor and knocked on their door if she wanted something. He hit accept anyway, just in case.  
"Hello?"  
No one answered him. He frowned.  
"Hello, is anyone there?" Nothing. "Miko, did you butt-dial me?" He deadpanned, slightly exasperated. 

And then, through the speaker, came a glitchy... wall of noise. He sat up, alarmed.  
"Miko?" The door opened and June peered in.  
"Jack? Why are you up this early? Who's calling?"   
"I don't know? I thought it was Miko, but--" they both heard what sounded like blaster fire issue from the phone. June came over and plucked it out of his hand.  
"Come on."  
  
Miko wasn't in her room; June went to 04's to make sure she wasn't with him and discovered that neither man nor mech was there either. Now entirely awake, they hurried into the hangar and June plugged his phone into the mainframe to trace the call.   
The screen displayed coordinates; June squinted up at them.  
"Well, that can't be right," she said blankly.  
  
  
  


  
They sank their arm into an eradicon's stomach, the panels caving in like butter, ripped its gun-arm off and chucked it behind them, hardly flinching as it exploded. They kept trying to surround and trap them, _suffocate_ them; they snarled and lunged in every direction in an unpredictable pattern, putting their whole weight behind their attacks, keeping them at a distance, aiming for wings-- sensitive parts, charging right at their blaster muzzles if they had to, they didn't care. They didn't have weapons-- too starved to use them-- but that was fine. The trail of lifeless husks behind them was testament to that.  
  
Alarms were ringing, 'Cons were screaming and firing and dying-- the sound grated on their ears-- and their time was running out.   
(They didn't need the warnings filling their sight, tinting it red, to tell them that: they could feel it creeping up their extremities and the corners of their vision.)  
  
But that was fine too. All they needed to do was make sure they took as many with them as possible. And if they got lucky, perhaps they would even get some that weren't faceless, half alive drones.

They stumbled over a body. A 'Con reached out, grabbed them by their targeting arrays and stabbed them in the back. Their knee hydraulics lost pressure and they sank down; dark figures closed in like a pack of wild dogs and kicked them, beat them.  
  
_______________  
  


A human girl blinked and stared at the floor. Up until that point she had existed in a suspended state of disturbed consciousness, only partially aware of what was going on outside and with the vague feeling she didn't _want_ to know; she had felt her body be manipulated like a marionette on strings, taking hits soft as down pillows and shrugging off laser beams to the chest as if they were nothing more than an annoyance. The sounds, the colours, everything was muted.  
  
Everything, except for the white-hot, murderous _rage_.   
  
Inside the mech's chest it would have been almost peaceful, floaty, with the darkness lit up by many strings of red code telling her how he hurt, if not for the _grip_ he had on her. It wasn't like when 04 had grabbed her to save her from being crushed; it wasn't even as if _he_ was holding her in real life, since his fingers-- as far as she could tell, anyway-- were blunt, just like all the others' back at the base.   
  
But the ones that were threatening to decapitate her now weren't. They felt like knives, and one of them was digging into her cheek just shy of drawing blood. She didn't know if they were real or constructs of the weird mental world they were in, but the sting certainly _felt_ real. And the message was perfectly clear: _do only as I say, and no more.  
_  
That made her blood boil just on principle: she didn't follow rules unless they had a very good reason to exist, didn't listen to anyone who hadn't given her a good reason to respect them, and this? This was the _worst_ reason. She _hated_ it. 

And so, when his grip faltered for a split second after he got stabbed, she made some knives of her own, and threw him off.   
He _howled_ ; and she was thrust into the real world again.  
The pain of their accumulated injuries hit all at once, and she curled in on herself. The other tried to take advantage of her agony to regain control and she snarled, mentally, and sent out more blades; he seethed and prowled along the edges of the dark dimension like a wolf, searching for a gap in her defences.

 **"Is he dead?"** One of the eradicons asked, nudging them with its foot. Miko took in the area through lidded eyes, planning. She hoped the call had gotten through. If it had, she needed to get to 04's cell and tell him. So she mustered up energy from some miracle place, grabbed the 'Con's leg, threw him into his buddies and barreled through them, going back the way she had come.  
  
  


  
Bulkhead jerked. There had been-- but no, that was impossible. A faint commotion sounded outside his cell, and for a moment he dared to hope: had the team managed to find his location somehow? The guards had noticed the noises too, glanced at each other, and moved away from their position at his door to investigate. He craned his head around the small window as far as he could to make sure they were really gone, then unsynched; Kevin climbed out of Bulkhead's chest and up his arm, towards his cuffs, tore off a tiny panel and inspected the wires underneath.  
  
**"Red. Yellow. Red."**  
"This isn't a _bomb_ , Bulk, we don't need to be careful with it," he muttered, and ripped out a fistful. The charge to the left stasis cuff diminished the slightest amount, and once he got so that he wasn't balanced precariously on 04's arm and was holding on securely to his collar armour, the mech leaned back to gather momentum and yanked it off. It cracked open spontaneously once disconnected, and 04 fired at the charge-control panel on the other side of the room to deactivate the right. It fell to the floor with a clang.  
The 04s nodded at each other, and their human half stepped back in. Re-synched. Opened the door-- the 'Cons hadn't thought he'd be able to get out of the cuffs because it slid open easily, their mistake-- and made for the sounds carefully. No need to draw attention away from the convenient distraction, whatever it was.  
And when he turned the corner--  
  
There was a lone figure in the hall streaked from head to toe with the dark blue of half-processed energon, bent over facing away from him and nearly battered beyond recognition. But the pose, the circumstances, it was all so painfully familiar.  
  
And, even after ten years, he would still recognize those winglets anywhere.  
**"...Jackie?"**

  
  


It hurt. It _hurt_. Nothing she had ever felt before even _compared_ to this, she wished she could just fall and let the other take over again and let them get killed as he seemed so intent on doing. But that wasn't an option.   
The other's presence in their mind gradually melted into the background, always watching, but not as actively hostile as he had been. Maybe he was just waiting for her to drop her guard.   
The 'Cons kept coming. This one felt like the hundredth squad they'd had to face since their breakout, and their heroic second wind was fading fast.  
  
**"Jackie?"**  
She whirled around.  
**"Bulkhead? Kevin! You're out!"** And she made a face at the voice that came out of her mouth, because _what the heck.  
_  
But 04's face had turned horrified.  
**"03,"** he whispered. She felt an awful sinking sensation in her chest. **"Where is... is he..."** The presence drew into a tight, black ball of misery and resentment, and the fin-like things on their head pinned back completely involountarily. 03 was dead. Mostly. And 04 seemed to realize this too, because he reeled back shaking his head, as if that could somehow change reality.   
  
But no matter how important this was, it wasn't the right place.  
**"Kevin! It's me! Miko? I called the base from a hangar, we have to get moving _now_!"** Bulkhead's eyes widened in shock. There was a feeling of **!Danger!** and she ducked in time to evade a headshot; 04 snapped out of his trance and grabbed their hand, towing them out of the line of fire and responding in kind, utterly annihilating the drones-- perhaps he had put more power into that shot than was strictly necessary.  
  
**"You'll have to tell me how you always seem to get into these situations,"** he said as they turned away from a main hall (no need to run _towards_ the troops.)  
**"It's a talent,"** she choked, quoting one of her middle-school teachers; out of the corner of their eye, she saw 04's espression contort.   
  
It was hard to tell with his metallic face, but it almost seemed as if he was trying not to cry.

  
  
  


"What's going on?" Pax had come in and was leaning over June's shoulder.  
"Traced an unknown call that came in through Jack's phone. Look at its source."  
It was coming from nearly 70 000 feet above the Pacific Ocean. And it was moving too, at about 1.5 times the speed of sound. 01 frowned.  
"There's only one place that could be. But surely they would be cloaking all transmissions, unless this is a trap."  
"Where's 04?"  
"Logs state he went out to California an hour ago to deal with a code green. Why?"  
"I can't reach him. I've tried several times now, and every time it cuts off before even going all the way through."  
His frown became more pronounced.  
  
"Very well. Open a groundbridge on this location. I will engage." He straightened and contacted Combs. "00, you're needed in the hangar. Kinetic warp. 1.5 Machs. Nemesis."  
He nodded at 06, and she imputted parameters for the equation to set the bridge's endpoint trajectory.  
"Hope they make no hard banks," she muttered, and Pax rested a hand on her shoulder.  
"I shall stop on the edge. But be prepared to shut it off in case someone else tries to get through."  
"Not with you still in it!"  
"That will hopefully not be required," he said, and had it been anyone else it would've come off as _cheerful_. Optimus plucked him off the platform, and 06 fired up the bridge.  
  
  
  


The blue-green ring appeared in front of them and immediately drifted sideways through a wall. 04 swore, glanced down at his companion, and muttered an apology. She gave a tired giggle.  
**"Is that ours? Why'd it go away?"**  
**"Portals don't play nice with moving objects."**  
Oh, yeah. In all of this she'd kind of forgotten they were on an evil lair spaceship, somehow. More drones were approaching from everywhere, and 04 tugged on their arm again to follow the bridge, but their knees buckled and they sagged into his side. If he moved, she had a feeling they would crumple to the floor.  
  
**"...03? Miko?"** He gave their arm a shake.  
**"I think I hit my limit,"** she slurred. If the other were to try and take over now, she couldn't stop him. But he didn't: his presence had almost entirely vanished. _Don't die now that we've almost escaped, you idiot._  
04 picked them up as if they weighed nothing more than a pile of feathers and slung them over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.  
  
The sound of jets filled the hall, and an F-16 flew around the corridor and transformed midair.  
**"You! _How_ did you get out! And _YOU_...!!!"** A-04 opened and closed his mouth several times, seemingly wordless with ire, then ground his teeth.  
**"I _knew_ I should finished _destroying_ you the first chance I got. Time to remedy that, I suppose,"** and he aimed at their head. B-04 turned to shield them with his own body, despite his passenger's weak protests.  
The portal careened back, swallowed a couple body parts scattered on the road and sank into the opposite wall; Bulkhead took advantage of the flare to back around the corner and chase after it.  
  
  


00 nudged 06 over and they both began to fiddle over the controls, course-correcting the bridge opening and trying to stabilize its relative position to the ship.  
  
  


**"04!"** The Prime was leaning out of the portal as it drifted-- rather quickly-- down the hall. Bulkhead tried to reach it, but he was no _race-car,_ he wasn't meant to go _fast_. The bridge slowed down. Starscream skidded around the corner, actually _roaring_ , and fired both forearm missiles at them. Optimus intercepted them with a Path Blaster, holding on to the side of the vortex-- the dense, swirling energies acted almost like tangible borders-- grabbed ahold of their outstreched hand and pulled them through.  
  
They tumbled back into the hangar, safe.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> I don't think the Drift dimension's actually _that_ big...
> 
> Why is it that so many of my chapters end with characters going in/out of groundbridges? I mean, it's dramatic and all, but not _that_ dramatic.
> 
> Anyway, yeah, in this story Wheeljack's going to be a traumatized asshole for a while. (Since this is the notes, I can drop the obligatory 'only _mostly_ dead' joke that's been threatening to spill somewhere inappropriate for the past 1000 words). And poor Miko. Like, I almost feel bad for torturing her so much. I think I'll leave her to recover for a bit now. A bit.
> 
> The mechs so far:
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02:???  
> B-03: Wheeljack  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05:???  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07: Smokescreen  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09:???  
> B-10:??? (pretty obvious though)
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: Soundwave  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: Starscream  
> A-05: ???  
> A-06: ???  
> A-07: ???  
> A-08: ???  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	12. Chapter 12

  
"...Wheeljack?" Jeff said, with dull shock. "But... oh." He had noticed their lack of colour.   
**"It's Miko in the Drift,"** 04 muttered, shifting his hold on 03 so that they were pressed against his chest instead of hanging from either side of his shoulders as he walked towards the medbay, and didn't pause at Combs's incredulous noises.  
**"Don't just _stand_ there!"**  
01 offered a palm for both Combs and Darby and followed him. Ratchet did a double take upon seeing Bulkhead's cargo, but he quickly recovered, stepped forward and together they half tugged, half levered the insensate mech into the repair dock and began hooking them to system support; 01 arrived and tilted the other two pilots onto the launch pad. 

Wheeljack's chest panels opened and the girl tottered out, looking fairly green in the face.  
"Ow," she said, then stumbled towards the railing, leaned over, and retched. 

June sidled close, began rubbing circles into her back while looking at Kevin-- he had gotten out too-- and mouthed " _What happened_?" over her head, glancing at the presumed-dead unit meaningfully. Having been a pilot for only two years, she'd never seen B-03 before, but knew enough to have an inkling of who he was. Or had been.

"Miko was inside Bulkhead when we were called, took her along by accident; didn't turn out to be much of a code green since A-04 was there. Knocked us out, brought us on the Nemesis; wanted to know the location of the base," he said, skimming over the details: he'd write them down later in his report. "Told Miko to get out, but the ship took off before she could."  
"Wasn't... gonna leave you anyway..." the girl said, inbetween the deep breaths she was taking to fight her nausea. Kevin looked at her, then at June and Orion, helplessly, and continued.  
"She found him, I think they were keeping him in stasis somewhere... isolated. Figured out how to bring him online; she called the base though one of the ship's terminals, caused quite the distraction too. Saved us both." And damn, but it was _really_ hard to not feel proud of her, no matter how misdirected that pride was. Perhaps Bulkhead was influencing him.  
  
They all looked at the girl, still hunched over gripping the bar, and collectively decided that interrogating her could wait (it wouldn't even be needed if they could get 03 to share video files of the event). But now June was worried about something else: she kneeled beside her.  
  
"How are you feeling, besides the nausea? Any headache? Dizziness? Do you sense a metallic taste in your mouth? Any pain in your joints, or throat, or chest?"  
She shook her head slowly.  
"Not now, I don't think... before, _everything_ hurt, I think now it's just..." she took another deep breath while searching for the right word "...echoes."  
Jeff stood up from where he was rifling through a toolbox, holding a wrench with an unscrutable look on his face.  
  
"You could feel--" he made a gesture that encompassed the entirety of Wheeljack's ruined frame "--that?"  
"Yes?" She said hesitantly. "Well, not in the beginning. But he kept attacking everything that came close, and he was so mad, I--" her face went pale again and she clapped a hand over her mouth, holding up the other to signal them to wait while she fought down a surge of bile. "He was going the wrong way, he wasn't trying to escape, I had to stop him! But when I managed to, it felt _horrible_."  
  
An oppressive silence filled the hangar.

"Well," June said finally. "You've had quite the adventure today. Would you like it if I carried you back to your room? I could stay with you for a while, how about that?"  
Miko leaned her head against the woman's chest and nodded; 06 hooked her arms under her thighs and lifted her up; the girl wrapped her legs around her waist and rested her chin on her shoulder, and June carried her down the stairs and out of the repair bay.  
  
  


They stood on the platform, stock still, until they heard the faint sound of the 03 bay doors opening and closing; then 00 whirled around and chucked the wrench as hard as he could against 03's breastplate. It bounced off, leaving an indent that was soon lost amidst the many others.  
  
"Pile of _scrap_!" 04 grabbed him by his coat collar and pulled him back so that they were face to face.  
"Don't. Touch. Him," he growled. The elder pilot adjusted the glasses that had slipped down his nose and glared right back.  
"Didn't you hear what she _said_? That wasn't just synchronization-- which would've been bad enough, might I add-- that was near _overshadowing_! I know he was glitched _before_ , but this crosses the line!"  
"And I'm sure you'd be thinking clearly after spending _ten years_ suffering the 'Cons' tender mercies!" He spat. "I know you hated Ja--"  
"--That has _nothing_ to do with this." 00 said, frigidly. "03 went against his own _core programming._ I think you've forgotten that their _reason for existence_ is to protect humanity. If Miko hadn't fought him, she would've _died_. Your own charge! What's more important to you, a _real_ human life or a ghost of your dead partner?"   
"So FIX HIM!" 04 roared, shaking him. "You're a mechanic, aren't you? You MADE him. Find whatever those bastards did to him and make it _right_ \--"  
"It's not that _simple_ \--"

They were both cut off by hands gripping their shoulders tightly, almost painfully. They blinked. 00's eyes were blazing blue behind his glasses; and, reflected against them, 04 could see his own doing the same. He set the engineer down slowly, watching the glow fade as he did, and turned to the two mechs facing off above them. The Prime, mirroring his pilot, had one arm around Ratchet's neck and one around Bulkhead's and was-- gently, but with warning-- pinching their audials, redirecting the flow of charge so that it wasn't filling the air with static anymore.  
  
00 exhaled slowly.  
"Right," he said, both to him and 01; their leader let go. They nodded stiffly at each other, and the orange and white pilot directed his attention towards his mech.   
A staring contest ensued; then Ratchet moved closer to Wheeljack and squinted at him. Bulkhead made an aborted movement to stop him. The Prime stood between them, still and grim like a weathered stone statue.   
  


At length, Combs made a frustrated sound.  
"04, you try," he said, gesturing at the green mech.   
"Try what?" Kevin asked. Bulkhead was being uncharacteristically closed off, which wasn't helping matters.  
"Ratchet's trying to get 03 to open his chest again to check the damage, but he's not responding. Not by radio and not by field. He can't get a read on him at all."  
"No field?" Pax asked, glancing up at Optimus who gave him the slightest of assents: in hindsight, it was rather strange that the gray mech hadn't reacted in any way during the confrontation.

Fields weren't something mechs could completely smother, even when powered down. Especially when powered down. That they couldn't sense his... 

...well. It was... worrying.  
  
  


* * *

The next day was a Sunday. The Darbies had gone back to their home in Jasper that morning, having been given the all clear; Kevin had taken Miko to a monster truck rally somewhere in the state, possibly to distract her from the previous day's events; Jeff had spent every waking hour since said events in the repair bay, fixing what he could of B-03 while directing the teams for the other units. Orion was the only one left in the hangar, and so was the one present when Fowler called some time around midday after having been gunned down in his fighter jet.

"Prime! We've got ourselves a problem."  
"Have the Decepticons launched another attack?"  
"Can't believe I'm saying this, but it almost would've been nicer if they had. Seems as if your _other_ old pals wanted in on the fun: they tried a smash and grab on the Dingus, shot me out of the sky!"  
  
01 tilted his head enquiringly.  
"Dynamic Nuclear Generation System, AKA Dingus. It's a prototype energy source we're transporting towards the coast for testing. You get one guess as to what it runs on."  
"Energon," 01 stated. "And there is only one organization we know of who would be interested in energon reactors."  
"Dear old MECH. Prime, if this baby were to melt down, it would irradiate this county and the four next door! Uncle Sam knows what weapons they'd create if they got their hands on this technology!"  
"Send me your coordinates. I shall warp through and escort the convoy."  
"Can't you just send it directly through that... land bridge thingy? They could return for round two any moment now!"  
Orion shook his head.  
"I'm afraid that sending such a volatile device through the groundbridge is out of the question. If an accident were to happen during its journey, the radiation could propagate through the vortex and bring harm to a much more widespread area."  
  


01 arrived at Fowler's crash site in vehicle mode; switching to root, they placed the crate inside their cargo hold and tied it down firmly. Then they retransformed and opened their passenger side door for the agent.  
"This is going to be a long trip," he muttered as he fastened his seatbelt, glancing enviously at the pilot at the wheel.  
"If long signifies uneventful, then by all means let it be so." 

  
Unfortunately, such wasn't the case: only twenty minutes later, Optimus's radar pinged showing a formation of green sports cars closing in with a helicopter backing them.  
"Agent Fowler: air support ETA."  
"I called them right after you. Shouldn't be more than twenty."  
"In that case, I shall endeavour to keep MECH at bay until then. Hold on."  
He knew the terrorist organization would have no qualms about endangering civilans to get what they wanted, so, at the first chance he got, he took a sharp right off the road onto a less traveled one full of twists and turns: that wouldn't impede the helicopter, but perhaps they could lose the five cars tailing them. As they were flanked by one, 01 jerked the steering wheel and the semi-truck drifted around a hairpin turn, knocking the would-be hijackers down the hill. Fowler readied his shotgun.

"Prime...! Sweet Lady Liberty." 01 was driving with laser-eyed focus, and his pupils had gone _blue_ : they were synched in alt.  
"Yep, that's not freaky at all," the agent muttered, and leaned out of the window to fire at their persuers' tires; one of the cars skidded sideways in front of another, acting as a ramp and flipping it onto its roof. A moment later it exploded.  
Orion did a sequence of truly impressive stunts to lose their tail, to no avail: even heading into a tunnel, reversing, backing into them at full speed and doing a J-turn on the gravel once outside didn't shake them for long-- they were obviously communicating.

"Agent Fowler. I'm afraid that, if we are to survive and fulfill our mission, it has become absolutely necessary to drop our cover and confront them in root mode."  
"What about the Dingus?"  
"I do not believe they will target it while they are in its blast radius: they would know of its danger. But just in case, I will move to draw their fire away."  
"I don't like relying on the common sense of terrorists," the other muttered, but didn't have a better idea to offer. They skidded to a stop and 01 stood up, set the disoriented agent down beside his trailer and formed blasters; he ran across the turf in a wide arc, flashing bright red and blue armour designed to catch one's attention and aimed at the helicopter, which canted to the side in an evasive manuver and backed away. Were they retreating, or were they moving away from ground zero to destroy the generator?  
  
  
And then five eradicons in alternate mode flew over the treetops, landed beside the container, extracted its contents and took off; in that same moment, a squad of F15-E Strike Eagles appeared from over the mountain crest and dropped heat decoys in preparation to engage the enemy.  
**" _Hold your fire_!"** 01 bellowed into comms; from the receiver, he could vaguely hear Fowler ordering the same: the risk of triggering a chain reaction was too high. The Mudhens broke formation and diverged, banking into a 180° turn before the cliff face, and climbed over the ridge in an attempt to track the Decepticon soldiers.  
Optimus looked around searching for MECH vehicles, but it seemed as if they had made themselves scarce in the confusion. Trust them to know when to cut their losses.  
  


"So, the rumours are true: the Decepicons have returned to Earth. A new war is brewing on the horizon." Silas narrowed his eyes at the scene rapidly disappearing into the distance, then smiled.   
  
"And after the two factions tear each other apart, those on the sidelines shall reap the rewards. And history will repeat itself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember what I said about Miko and how I love to torture my favourite characters?  
> Yeah. I like Bulkhead and Wheeljack too. This doesn't bode well for them.
> 
> On another note, we now have MECH! As you might guess, since this story centers around the... human factor... a bit more, they're probably going to be sliightly more important in this story than they were in canon. Maybe.  
>  ~~Also me, with my five year old's humour, the entire second half of this chapter: Dingus. Pffft...~~


	13. Chapter 13

  
"...Why? _Why_ would 'Cons want the Dingus? They have more nuclear weaponry on that warship than they could shake a stick at! The generator has one _hundredth_ of its engines' power output on _idle_ , if that, what other use could they have for it?"  
  
Back in the Outpost meeting room, Fowler was staring at 01's recording of the scene, paused at the moment when the Eradicons had swooped down from out of nowhere and stolen the DNGS.

He didn't get an answer. They were all wondering the same thing.

  
Under the cover of a thunderstorm over Lake Eerie, the Decepticon flagship hovered, taking advantage of the electrical discharge to mask its presence; in the repair bay, two drones finished attaching the charred frame to the generator they had just acquired. As A-04 walked in they moved away deferentially, bowing with one fist pressed to their chest.  
A-02 moved into sight from where he'd been silently observing in the shadows; Starscream suppressed a sneer, arranging his face and wings into something passably neutral.  
**"As much as it pains me, Soundwave, I must enquire: are you certain this isn't nothing but a squander of time and resources? The eradicons barely managed to escape through a groundbridge, and the only reason they didn't fail their mission was because Optimus Prime was distracted by those measly fleshbags! Next time we might not be so fortunate: another outing could lead the Autobots straight to our stronghold!"**  
The 'Con, of course, didn't answer: instead, his face-screen displayed a low amplitude frequency, damped but persistent and regular.  
**"Yes, I _know_ it's still operational-- for now-- but have you _seen_ the damage? 03 is stuck on that garbage planet, and no one else knows how to mend such extensive injuries! While it's true that this... primitive reactor produces enough energy to keep our Master alive, his mind is deep in oblivion. I believe he would prefer death over such a degrading, meaningless existence."** And he walked towards the medical slab to detatch the power cable.

A long, thin arm stopped him, delicate fingers curling around his wrist. 02's screen was dark, and in the gloom Starscream caught a brief flash of red behind it.   
He stopped and backed off.  
**"Your loyalty is truly admireable, if misaimed,"** he muttered, and couldn't quite stop his tailerons from twitching inwards in resentment. **"I trust you have a plan to get our Lord back to full functionality?"** Hopefully _not_.  
A-02 nodded, turned on his heel and walked out of the room without further elaborating.   
  


The seeker looked back at the unresponsive, blackened body of his master.   
His claws twitched at his sides. It would be so easy...

A small mechanical bird-like drone detatched itself from the ceiling and perched beside 01's shoulder. Lazerbeak.   
Despite its lack of eyes, Starscream could tell that it was gazing at him intently.  
  
He made a nearly imperceptible growl deep under his fuselage and left them alone in the room.  
One day he would see 01's corpse at his feet, and 02's, and everyone else's, both A and B alike: he would outlive them all, and spit on their remains. One day, he would be _free_. Mark his words.

His time would come.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Leland Bishop, ex Spec-Ops Colonel for the US Army and now rogue operative, strode down a back alley somewhere deep in the bowels of Detroit's ghetto, scrunching his nose in disgust at the piles of trash scattered everywhere; had this been a mission of lesser importance he would have relegated it to one of the commandos, but regrettably such wasn't the case, and now he found himself having to dodge pools of dubious liquid in the cracked pavement. Why he had chosen to live here was anyone's guess: surely, simply being poor-- relatively speaking, anyway-- wouldn't require to put up with such squallor? _Especially_ considering the man in question.  
He stopped in front of a shabby clinic, a sign overhead showing two perfect, photogenic faces smiling down at him. He was pretty sure it was supposed to be lit.   
Not bothering with ringing the doorbell, he laser-cut a square around the catch, stepped inside, walked past the lobby and operating rooms and up the stairs and banged on the door. 

"Get out of my house, fucker!" The person inside shouted. Silas grinned.  
"Doctor," he said, modulating his tone to one of fake hurt. "Surely, you would invite an old associate in?"   
There was a beat of silence, then a scramble and a series of clicks as the person on the other side hurried towards him, undid the many locks and opened the door a fraction.  
"What do you want."  
"Right down to business? You've changed." He leaned down slightly so his eyes were level with his. "This is not a conversation I would like to have..." he made an offhand gesture.   
The man sniffed, mistrustful, but undid the last chain lock and opened the door. Silas breezed past him and looked around.  
"Nice place," he commented."Very... spartan."  
"What. Do you want." The other snapped, hands on his hips and tapping one foot on the linoleum. Silas walked over to the window and turned towards him.

"I've come to offer you a job."  
"Oh, no. No no no. I _told_ you _years_ ago, I'm OUT of the robot business." He made an X with his arms as if to ward him off while shaking his head for emphasis. Silas raised one eyebrow, pulled up the blinds and glanced out.  
"Really." He said, pointedly. "And I see you've made quite a good living with your new profession."  
The man threw his hands up in the air, went over to the cupboard and brought out a bottle of Bourbon and two glasses.

"What's this 'job'." Silas poured himself a third.  
"A raven told me yesterday that his beloved old master isn't feeling too well, isn't that sad." He swirled the beverage around in his cup. "He asked me for assistance, and offered a payment in oversight and bodies. Third rate remains, useless to him. I felt offended, to be honest, but they're still better than anything else the world order has to offer, and it's a starting point."  
The man froze at the table.  
"They have returned?"   
"Yes."

He began to pace.  
" _Why_ would you want to fix that _thing_ that wants to see the planet burn? For just a couple drones to dissect? Can't you use _yours_?"  
" _Mine_ is too valuable to break down. For now. And do you truly believe they'd manage?" He snorted. "If they manage to slaughter my old team, and that's a big _if_ , they will tear through a couple cities searching for something to fight, and when they don't find it, they'll turn on each other like a snake eating its tail. They might _seem_ otherwise, but in reality they're just violent beasts, a caricature of the humans they once were."  
  
He took a sip.  
"But surely you know this, Doctor: after all, you were the one to oversee their transfer, weren't you?"  
"And you need me to do that again." The MECH leader shrugged.  
"It's a processor problem; of which type, I couldn't tell you. And I don't need you to. Say the word, and I'll leave and never come back. But." He smirked.   
"I admit I may have been lax with precautions in my journey here. If, say, an A-unit specialized in espionage were to cut out the middleman and take matters into his own hands, he wouldn't find it too difficult. My apologies."  
The other tightened his grip around his glass.   
  
"All right," he muttered finally. "On one condition. Everything you have at your disposal, any revolutionary tech or whatever, I want too, before _and_ after the operation. _And_ I reserve the right to leave whenever I please."  
"Of course; it would be remiss of me to not provide nothing but the best tools for my chief neurosurgeon. I'm looking forward to working with you again, Doctor." Silas pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against, and they shook hands.  
  


"Out of curiosity," the Doctor called, right as he had one foot out of the door. "How's...? Wouldn't think he'd be very accomodating right now."  
"Difficult," came the reply. "But we're making progress. I'll figure out how to force it sooner or later: I've managed before, I'll do it again."  
He stepped out, paused, and glanced back.  
  
"Nice car, by the way. British model?"  
And he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of something that has absolutely nothing to do with this chapter, in the beginning B-04 (Bulkhead) and B-05 were going to have their numbers reversed, because reasons. I figured later that it would make more sense plot-wise to switch them, so I sacrificed symbolism for consistency (which I hated doing, but overall I think it works better, also because it gives a certain amount of irony).
> 
> Yes, I am being deliberately cryptic.
> 
> Shortish chapter this time, both because I like the way it ended and also because I wrote this, like, in one sitting.


	14. Chapter 14

"Boss," 04 called from the console. "We've got a distress signal. An _Autobot_ distress signal."  
"Origin?"  
"Egypt, Western Desert area, close to the Libyan border."  
They had been swamped recently by reports of Decepticons breaking in and stealing from various facilities at night, yet property damage was at a minimum and there had been no witnesses: mission priority/risk, disregarding 04's re-classified encounter with Starscream in Palo Alto, had never gone above green.   
Which was odd. Odd, and concerning: it felt like the calm before the storm.  
This made for a welcome change.

"We have no bases in Egypt; it is either a long-grounded Autobot vessel come online, or..."  
"...09's arrived earlier than expected. We move out, right?"  
"Of course. Post-haste."

  
  
  
They got there in time to see another portal open and a huge sky-blue mech fly out followed by a horde of drones; he spun around and punched one in the visor, formed a gunblade-- same model as Optimus's-- and stabbed another in the chest.  
The rift showed no signs of closing, and Decepticon soldiers kept spilling out, so 01 cleared his comms and signalled _**Fall Back**_. B-09 turned towards them, eyes lit in recognition, and sliced his way towards them through the mob; Optimus, guarding the portal while Bulkhead was on covering fire, beckoned him and they retreated through the bridge back to the base.

00 was there when they returned.  
"Commander," he greeted. "Welcome back. You've made good time in your journey, I see. Where did you land your ship? We'll need to send forces to retrieve it before it's spotted by civilians."  
**"That won't be necessary,"** Ultra Magnus said grimly. **"Seeing as it's currently docked to the Decepticon warship."**  
  
01 started. It was a small thing, but for someone as collected as he it was unexpected; 00 glanced at him interrogatively.  
**"What happened?"**  
09 turned towards his leader, clicked his heels together and nodded respectfully.  
**"Sir, I believe your summons was intercepted somehow: when decelerating nearing Earth's gravitational pull we found the Nemesis lying in wait. The Iron Will has a wide arsenal but it doesn't have a strong enough magnetic shield to guard against tractor beams, and I wasn't able to steer it away in time."**  
**"What of your crew? Are they still onboard, taken prisoner, or have they also escaped? Or have they all perished?"**  
  
An expression darted across his faceplate and was quickly smoothed over.  
**"At this moment I'm... uncertain. They didn't seem interested in the human element, I believe they were only after our weapons."** He reached back and unclasped a small transmitter from his back.  
**"I broke out of their holding cell and took one of their groundbridges. I was followed, of course; but I managed to keep this."**  
**"What is it, sir?"** 04 asked curiously.  
**"It's a tracking device, linked to the ship. While I don't doubt A-02 will engage signal jamming once he finds out, for now coordinates are still showing. I suggest we bridge to this location and launch a surprise attack."**  
**"This is not the time to be taking the offensive: we must concentrate solely on getting the Iron Will, and its crew, out intact from the Decepticon's clutches."**  
Optimus turned to Jeff (and Ratchet, who had also entered the room and was frowning at Magnus quizzically).  
  
**"Combs, Ratchet, hook the device to the mainframe."**  
They did; the Nemesis was flying, rather slowly, somewhere over the Siberian taiga.  
**"Bulkhead, Richardson. Prepare to bridge out near this location."** He sent a call through comms. **"B-07 will accompany you on auto, and I will follow soon after."**  
**"Near?"** 09 enquired. **"Not on?"**  
**"Charging right into battle with so little known variables is too dangerous, especially with these lives at stake. 07 might be able to give us more information with his long-range scopes."**  
The commander tilted his head in understanding.  
**"Sir, permission to take ten minutes to refuel: I've been running combat protocols for two hours now, and my energon levels are starting to get low."**  
**"Granted."**

He left the bay just as Smokescreen came in; the gray mech actually stopped in his tracks as he walked past, doorwings tilting up slightly as he squinted at the other.  
**"Optimus,"** 04 muttered, **"07 on _autopilot_? He can't fight like that-- the Bs can't even _drive_ themselves safely, never mind survive in a ten-on-one fight alone!"**  
**"He won't have to,"** the Prime answered quietly. **"And neither will you."**

Behind him, Combs's eyes widened. 04's brow furrowed.   
**"...What?"**  
**"Take 07 near enough to the location to be able to use long-range sensors."** Optimus said carefully. **"But do not get any closer than that, and use cloaking. And prepare to bridge back at any moment. Understood?"**  
He nodded a bit bewilderedly, and they exited.

"Are you following?" 00 asked casually. 01 glanced at him and made a hand gesture close to his chest.  
**"Of course. Re-open the gate, one mile away from the other side."**  
  
  
  


Miko, hearing an unfamiliar voice, poked her head out of the 04 bay where she had been doing homework; at the end of the corridor was a Very Big blue-and-red mech (capitalized for illustrative purposes, since all the units were ginormous). She hadn't known there were other bots as big as Optimus! He even _looked_ like 01, a little bit. Was that intentional?  
"Hey!" She called, jumping up and down and waving her arms. "Are you 09?"  
09(?) paused and looked down. Like the Prime and Bulkhead, he had to lean forward slightly to see over his chest (which was pretty funny-- how didn't they keep tripping over things when they couldn't see their feet?) and he raised one eyebrow, glancing back and into Kevin's room.  
**"Yes, I am B-09. My designation is Ultra Magnus. And you aren't part of the staff. What are you doing here, civilian?"**  
So, he hadn't been brought up to speed on everything yet? Although given all the other stuff that happened, it was understandable. Also, he had just got back. She pulled on a pigtail.  
"I guess I'm, like, a temporary resident? I saw some stuff and I couldn't go back so I have to stay here for now. Hey, are you a truck? Why do you look so much like Optimus? How much do you weigh? What's your pilot's name? Where--"  
The mech held up a hand (with a vaguely constipated expression, she noted), looking a little taken aback by the whole slew of questions.  
**"That's classified information,"** he rumbled. **"And your reason for being here notwithstading, humans shouldn't be in such close vicinity to mechs: step back into the room and wait until all units have cleared the area."** Geez, this guy was stiffer than _00_.

(She still followed him back into the hanger. Because, _new giant robot._ Who wouldn't?)  
  


When they returned to the control room, the only ones left were the two 00s at the screens.  
**"B-00, I'm ready to resume combat. Open the bridge at the coordinates I've provided."** He was looking at Ratchet; not shifting from his position, the mech side-eyed his pilot at the controls who spun around in his seat to face the other.  
"Ehp ehp ehp, no you don't! You just got back from an extended stay in microgravity, then got captured by Decepticons and fought them off practically _singlehandedly_ for God knows how long! You're not going _anywhere_ until I give you a check up. _Both_ of you."   
For a second, the stoic mech seemed almost irked.   
**"I am perfectly functional: my HUD displays no error messages."**  
Jeff hummed.  
"Rather odd, considering: it seems nearly impossible for one to have faced as many obstacles as you have the past day and escape with only minor lesions." He gestured at his frame and smiled.  
"Of course, you did. You'll have to tell us how you managed that, I'm sure it'll be an interesting tale."  
  
If there had been a reaction this time it was hidden under mask of professionalism.  
**"In due time. 00, open the bridge."**  
The aged pilot raised his eyebrows.  
"I can't in good conscience let you leave, 09, especially considering that by your account your human half has been in the Drift for over two hours. In fact, I'd like it if he stepped out right now."  
Magnus's fingers twitched at his side. Ratchet, who hadn't as much as blinked since the beginning of the conversation, trained his sonar on it while keeping his eyes on his pilot, and mentally transmitted the image of the little box attached to the magnetic strip on 09's waist that hadn't been present when he had first arrived. **BREACH.**  
**"Open the bridge. That's an order, soldier."**  
Jeff smiled again; it didn't reach his eyes.  
"As Chief Engineer of the Special Units, Commander, my orders outrank yours under this set of circumstances. Unsynchronize and separate. Now."  
  
Silence. 09 flicked his gaze between the non-combatant mech in front of him and the human at the control panel; the green light of the screens made his hair grayer and the lines on his face deeper, eyes sunken. He looked... old. Old, and tired.  
  
"09," Jeff asked softly, "where is your pilot?"

Ultra Magnus took one step back.   
  
And then many things happened at once: without altering his expression, 09 formed a gun and aimed it at the man; Ratchet, reading the intention in his field, sprang in front of his pilot and shielded him with an arm, unsheathing a scalpel-like blade from the other. 

And 01 bolted from his hiding place and aimed both Path Blasters at the blue mech, eyes blazing and blanketing the room with cool, heavy fury. 09 started.

" **How--"**  
**"09 would _never_ leave his crew defenceless on an enemy ship. You miscalculated, _A-05_. Now drop. Your. Weapon."**  
Ultra-- A-05-- _grinned_ , and when he next spoke his voice was _different_ , raspier.  
**"Alas."** And he made a swipe behind the platform. The other two lunged.

 **"Don't move. Or I'll squeeze her into _pulp_." **  
They froze in their tracks: brandished in his fist, with only her head sticking out, was Miko.   
**"Now,"** the shapeshifting mech said, backing up another couple of steps so he had them all in his field of vision at the same time, **"you, human. Open the bridge."**

'And lead the entire Decepticon army into the base', was the unspoken conclusion.   
Jeff looked at 01, helplessly, even as he knew that if it came down to it, the choice would _always_ be for the greater good. It had to be. No matter how Ratchet was wailing in his mind (his _directive_ , he hadn't even thought of that, that was so _cruel_ ), how it would make him lie awake at night (it already did), how it would eat at them all until they were nothing but empty husks. 

But that was _if_ it came down to it. And by God, they would do _anything_ to keep from having to make that choice. 01 slowly, inconspicuously lifted his aim for a headshot: which would be faster, blaster fire or an A's lightning reflexes?   
**"Don't _move_ ,"** 05 hissed, switching his attention from one to the other suspiciously.  
  


  
During all of this, no one noticed the fourth mech enter the room. And why would they? His presence, already muted in the first place, was entirely concealed by the whirlwind of 01's all-pervading, cold anger clashing against 00's distress and the doppleganger's sharp anxiety, his frame matched the hangar's gray concrete walls, and he moved as silently as any wild animal.  
That is until he sprang at A-05, clamped onto his back and began ripping sensors out.  
  
The 'Con screamed and dropped his hostage; Ratchet dove to catch her.  
"Why am _I_ always the one getting snatched by giant robots?" She complained as he set her down safely behind him, rubbing her arms to re-establish circulation; Jeff was too distracted by the fight to reply (which was for the best, since his answer would've likely been unkindly sardonic).  
  


For now, said fight was decidedly one-sided: Wheeljack had his legs hooked under 05's armpits, which paired with Magnus's oversized shoulder-pads made it impossible for the mimic to reach behind himself to grab his assailant; who was _clawing at anything he could reach_ on A-05, audials, chemoreceptors, antennas, _eyes_ \-- energon poured out of his ruined sockets and streamed down his face, torn wires sparked and crackled-- with single, bloody-minded focus, his own finials laid flat against his head. _Brutal_.

"Whoa, _cool_ ," Miko murmured, because of course she would think that.

The shapeshifter, roaring with pain and half-blind, gathered enough presence to do the logical thing and fall on his back, crushing 03 under his weight-- Magnus was almost double his size, after all-- and the impact loosened his vice-grip enough for 05 to wrench him off and fling him across the room into a stack of crates; 01, who so far hadn't intervened for fear of hitting the brawler in the confusion, beamed _**Dead End Warp** _to Ratchet and Jeff, who hit the switch without entering coordinates.  
A-05 didn't care, or, more likely, didn't notice: when he saw the bridge light up, he didn't spare any second for thought and charged at it in a desperate escape attempt. Once he disappeared in the vortex, 00 cut the power; with no stable end on either side, the mech would be shunted through the wormhole confines and torn apart in the space-time anomaly.   
  


  
"Shit," Jeff muttered in the following silence. "I forgot. He had something on him."  
**"Stolen? A weapon?"**  
"Unlikely. Couldn't get a good look at it, but it was less than a foot in length."  
Optimus sighed.  
**"Hopefully, whatever it is will be recovered along with A-05's remains."** 00 snorted.  
"And hopefully said remains have landed somewhere isolated and not, say, strewn across a city. At least the Dead End should have prevented radiation from propagating. Can I call the others back?"  
**"Yes. I shall inform them of the events."**  
  
There was a small movement out of the corner of his eye. Jeff glanced at Miko: she was staring at Wheeljack, who was gingerly picking himself up from the wreckage, with a bit of a frown. The swordsmech stared right back.

Then he gave her one slow blink of acknowledgement, and left towards his bay without as much as a 'by your leave'.  
Well. At least his repairs seemed to have held.  
  


* * *

"So, Makeshift infiltrated the base under the guise of Ultra Magnus. Do we know if the _real_ Commander has been captured, or did the Decepticons fabricate that as well?" 06, who had returned for the morning shift the next day, asked.  
"Current evidence suggests he has not: Orion feels that if they had, A-04 would have issued some sort of ultimatum by now or otherwise used the situation to his advantage, and I agree."  
"Yeah. He would have at least gloated about it."  
June glanced at the inventory up on the screen.  
  
"Have we found what's missing yet?"   
"No," Jeff said, pinching the bridge of his nose behind his glasses. "And it wasn't anywhere near 05's pieces, either."  
"Couldn't it just have traversed the horizon? Or disintegrated?"  
  


"It could've," he allowed.   
"But I would like to be _sure_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't know 'death by groundbridge' was something I wanted until I wrote this.  
> Well hello Makeshift, and goodbye Makeshift-- like in the series, I killed him off fairly quickly, because after the first time I feel that the 'surprise factor' wouldn't be as effective, both for the characters and for the reader: they would have been prepared for it. Sooo... he goes. Perhaps a better writer could have kept him for longer.
> 
> Anyone care to take a guess on what was taken?
> 
> The mechs so far:
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02:???  
> B-03: Wheeljack  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05:???  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07: Smokescreen  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09: Ultra Magnus  
> B-10:??? 
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: Soundwave  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: Starscream  
> A-05: Makeshift  
> A-06: ???  
> A-07: ???  
> A-08: ???  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	15. Chapter 15

It was early morning out in the Nevada desert, and shadows sharpened and stretched behind rocky hills and buildings, blue against pink turned orange turned gold as the sun rose. In what over two years had become the usual routine in the Darby household, when Jack entered the kitchen he found his mom already awake and in her pilot suit (with a stack of civilian clothes neatly folded on the table, ready to be put on over it when she left the house), bent over the computer absentmindedly sipping a mug of coffee. He squeezed behind her chair to get to the cereal cupboard.

"Jack, I have to be away all day today. Since it's the weekend, do you want to come along? I'll be back before midnight so if you want to stay here that's fine."  
He thought about it.   
Well, it was Jasper. Really, the only thing it had going for it were the giant, planet-defending robots in the super secret government base; otherwise it was just neat rows of houses, school, Vince and his buddies, KO Burger, a lone tree here and there and a vast expanse of dusty, dry, cracked earth.   
(Yeah, his social life before Miko had been practically zilch. He could admit that.)

"Sure. Why? Can you tell me?"  
She sent him a small smile. While sometimes she really couldn't, like when she was assigned on strike missions or high-profile espionage or recon-- but in those cases she usually didn't have the time to tell him anyway: she would just say "Jack, I'm leaving. Lock the door" or "Jack, get ready. Five minutes; helmet's on the dresser" and be right out-- what she _had_ told him was still probably more than 00 would approve of. He would say that it was for his own security more than anything else: not having a mental connection to a robot ready to jump up and protect him, the less he knew, the safer he was.   
June... disagreed. She despised ignorance and didn't believe it would be of any help, even if knowledge could potentially draw a (bigger) target on his back: she had, over the years, taught him basic self defence that she herself had picked up in her three-month long piloting crash-course, first aid, US human rights, and how to disable alarms. Among other things.  
And when he asked stuff about her job, she would usually answer; without going into detail, as she didn't like talking about it too much, but she would answer. Especially recently, after he had lived in the base for a week (and would probably have to do so again, unless a miracle came along and made the Nemesis explode and sink to the bottom of the ocean) and the line between 'civilian' and... _something_... became more and more indistinct.

But it was still right to ask, just in case.

"00 finished his preliminary exams on Arcee and wants me to take her for a test drive in harsh terrain and weather and do a trial scouting mission. Several scouting missions." She shook her head with fond exasperation.  
As stated above, 06 and 00 had their arguments-- amplified by their mechs, both prickly natured-- but seemed to get along in spite of that: June would fuss about his fussiness and then hypocritically turn around and fuss over him when he forgot to, for example, sleep more than three hours per night (he'd heard them in the corridor once.) It would be rather entertaining if not for the ever-present feeling of 'we're all going to die'.

"Oh, ok. I bet she's happy to get out."  
"You have _no_ idea."

  
  
  
  
When they got there, Jack was distracted by Miko running up greet him ("Jack! You won't _believe_ what you missed--") and telling him about her most recent brush with death, and thus missed when Arcee and his mom left the base. He climbed up onto the lounge platform and unearthed a physics textbook from him backpack; Miko took one look at him, threw her hands up in the air and went away grumbling something about eighty year-olds, looking for someone less boring to pester (probably 04).  
He remained fairly absorbed in it until Combs passed by underneath heading for the control room. Jack got up and followed.

"So how's Arcee?" He asked awkwardly, after hesitating on the edge for a while. 00 continued his work without glancing up; Jack repeated his question.  
"Yes, yes, I heard you the first time, I was ignoring you. She's as fine as she can be. 06 won't have to be with her in the base 24/7. Now leave, I'm busy." He made shooing motions with one hand and Jack automatically turned around, when--  
  
"Wait, what?"  
The pilot gave a put-upon sigh.  
"Why did you _think_ you had to live here? Sure it was also for security reasons, but it was mostly so 06 wouldn't tear the place apart looking for her pilot while she was undergoing maintenance!"  
He hadn't known that.  
"Has that... happened before?" 00 snorted.  
" _Yes_. And since 06 seems just as _particular_ about her current pilot as her first two, it stands to reason that she would act just the same. Hopefully she'll do well enough in the tests that Darby can get her out by this evening... " he trailed off, grumbling. Jack didn't even hear the last part, too caught up in the first half:  
"Two? Mom's her _third_? But... I thought--" 01 was on his second; Ratchet and Bulkhead were still on their _first_ and they were years older than Arcee!   
00 was scowling at him impatiently.  
" _Yes_ , Darby's her _third_. B-06 hasn't had the best luck with pilots. Death rate's not as bad as _08_ 's, but; which is why I wanted to take time to review her schematics, even if the universe seems hellbent on making that as hard as possible..." he glared at him pointedly, and Jack decided he'd reached the limit of the engineer's daily tolerance for questioning and left, not feeling very reassured.   
  
  
The third.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
_"06, status report."_  
**"Parameters are within one standard deviation of the optimal: all systems operating at or above 90% efficiency."**  
_"Is the temperature affecting you?"_  
**"Negative. Core temp is stable at 300 °C, Drift at 25, no excessive cooling in the limbs."**  
_"Good. You'll soon be out of range of communication: one you reach the designated area, analyze the substrate and pick a sample, scan for activity and loop back before the 100 minute mark. If you haven't reported back by then we'll send backup. Base out."_  
**"Understood."**  
  
Their mission was relatively simple, to ease them both back into active duty: find the energon deposit satellites had picked up in the rocky alaskan wilderness and determine whether it was pure enough to be worth mining-- basically an excuse to test Arcee's sensors. While 06 wasn't an infiltrator like Smokescreen (her official classification was 'interceptor'), they shared some similarities as their fighting style revolved more around stealth and speed than brute force or firepower, thus relying on many, many kinds of tracking/positioning/analyzing equipment that the other units simply did not have.   
  
**200 meters due North. ?Superficial?**  
That was strange: energon was usually in the form of crystals located deep underground, not just lying around. Unless it had spilled out of something. Arcee's winglets fanned out, on alert, and they proceeded with caution.  
**!!! Human presence detected.**  
Of course there would be someone illegally camped out in the middle of nowhere. They took a detour around the signal, taking care to remain silent and staying a good ways away; it was getting dark-- in early fall in Alaska the days were short-- and the trees would help them stay hidden...  
  


June got a whiff of something... sweet.   
It wasn't the gentle, vanilla-like sweetness of the pines: it was heavier, cloying, almost like burning frankincense, or cinnamon. Or myrrh. But what--  
All around her, Arcee _tensed_. Her sensors spread out further like the wings of a spooked owl and angled towards the energy signature. June forced their legs to keep moving while probing their mental connection curiously; it thinned like a fraying rope about to give out and she stopped poking at it, alarmed.  
"06?" She asked aloud. "Arcee? Are you all right?"  
The trees gave way to a clearing.

In the clearing was a small vessel. A vessel that hadn't crashed all that long ago, judging by the fresh grooves it had made in the forest floor upon touchdown. The shallow pool of energon underneath it hinted at a hole in its fuel tanks.   
Well, at least they had found the source. Arcee had gone stiff, so June once again took the reins and approached it to investigate. The scent got stronger: it had an underlying stench of rotting flesh, now. They circled around the spaceship, looking for an entrance--  
**Don't.**  
June stopped. What?  
**Don't go in.**  
There was a pleading tone to her words. Arcee didn't _do_ that.   
Now more than a little unnerved, June stepped away and sent the femme a stronger interrogative; their connection slammed shut like a door, and she was left alone in their mind. But she still felt their plating draw tight. _Like a person hugging themselves for comfort._  
  


Something skittered above them on the deck. And a huge, pink-eyed face dropped down right in front of their own.  
**"Oh, my. My dear counterpart, whatever have they saddled you with this time?"**

06 scrambled back as fast as she could. The other femme climbed down from the ship, righted herself on her many spindly insectoid legs, and smiled.   
**"What a pleasure to see you again, Arcee, it's been far too long."** June felt their expression involountarily draw into a sneer, and suddenly knew who they were faced with. 

A-06. Airachnid.  
The A-unit who had been built not for fighting, but for _assassination_.

**"You sure have trouble hanging on to your partners, don't you? We both know what happened to your _first_ , but I recently picked up some radio chatter regarding the passing of your second..."**  
She began stalking towards them.  
**"At some point you have to ask yourself, is it them... or is it me? Blue is such a miserable colour, you looked _so_ much better in silver. It really makes me wonder why you even bother with these replacements."   
**  
And she shot them with some sort of sticky, web-like substance. June leapt out of the way. _Arcee, snap out of it_.  
And she did; but instead of re-opening their connection, she shoved her pilot down into a cocoon of shields and padded, wrapped limbs and went to war, launching herself at the 'Con who laughed and met them head on.  
**"That's more like it!"** She crooned and 06 _snarled_ , dodging sharp, acid dripping tarsi and claws and fangs and managed to shove the other back, who transformed into bipedal mode and fired laser beams out of her palms.

June winced as she was crushed (she didn't think 06 realized how tightly she was squeezing her in her misguided attempt to keep her safe), the ozone-and-myrrh smell making her nauseous; Airachnid, like all Decepticons, was huge, much bigger than Arcee at the very least, but unlike the heavier winged models her bulk didn't slow her down in the slightest. If 06 had any composure she would disengage and try attacking from a distance, but even buried under layers of overprotective Drift-construct the pilot could tell that all the femme wanted was to tear Airachnid's legs off with her bare hands and feed them to her, reason be damned.

**"So, what's this one called? I hope she's as pretty as the first. You know,"** the 'Con said conversationally, **"I was so sad to have missed your second, I'd already cleared a spot on my wall... my centerpiece looks lonely. Beautiful, but out of place amongst my other brutish trophies. But with this new addition?"** She slashed at their chest and 06 only just ducked in time. **"It will be perfect. Never fully complete, of course, but that's how it is. And don't worry, I'll only use the _finest_ ingredients to preserve her." **  
  


June was sure there was a lot of stuff flying over her head-- first of all the exact fate of her predecessor, of which she'd gotten an inkling that was steadily developing into something horrifying-- but she would worry about that later: right now they were playing straight into A-06's hands. Falling back on her training, she ignored the raging storm of the Drift and focused on becoming an anchor; like a sailboat on a rough sea, she couldn't control Arcee (and even if she could, she wasn't sure she'd _want_ to) but she _could_ direct her: she grabbed hold of the fluctuating mass and steered it away, momentarily directing B-06's attention inwards, and broke them apart from the tussle to run in the direction of the ship.

The sun had set now, and their dark paint helped them blend into the shadows.  
**!JUNE!** Her femme yelled in her mind. **!Away! !Run AWAY! ! _RUN_!** 06 felt like she was fighting against a current; Arcee was projecting **Death** onto the vessel, and the sweet stench of spices and decay it emanated made it pretty clear _why_ ; but she preservered.  
  
**"Aaah... June? So _that_ 's her name."** Had she been _broadcasting_? A-06 landed on the roof with a clatter and slowly made her way up its length.  
**"If you wanted a tour, June, all you needed to do was ask! Did you spot the empty space? I hope you like it, it's where you'll soon hang your head!"** She reached the end. June pressed them close to the hull, tamping down their field and ventilations. Airachnid narrowed her eyes and entered the ship from the ceiling, upside down.  
When she was sure the 'Con had gone far enough in, 06 moved away from the ship, silently, circled around it till they got to the puddle of energon, then backed away. 

They stepped on a stick. It snapped in half.   
In the still, misty air it might as well've been a gunshot.  
  
**"June?"** Airachnid called from inside the ship, and they wasted no more time: they fired at the liquefied crystal.  
**"JUNE!"** They heard her roar before the flames reached the main fuel cell and _deflagrated_ , turning the ship into a pillar of fire.

Destroying her morbid collection.  
  
  
  


  
They climbed a nearby cliff and watched the flames rise; in their mind, Arcee was silent with shock.

They stood there for a long time, until the retrieval team came running through the woods with torches and scanners and a helicopter above shone its searchlight on the pyre.   
A-06 had escaped, of course: she had drilled through her ship's floor and into the ground. The assassin, unfortunately, would live to see another day.

But so would she. Both of her.  
  


The fire was beautiful against the clear night sky. Something loosened in their chest; there was nothing she could do for her second, but at least the first had been finally put to rest. This... this was enough.  
So they turned away from the grave under a starry sky, and left through light.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, _finally_ , a chapter that focuses on June and Arcee. I know it's been a long time coming since that first one, but it didn't feel right to have it before.  
> I imagine June is a bit the "odd man out" in this story: she isn't a beginner pilot the way the kids will be (well, spoiler, but I'm sure that literally everyone reading this knows) but isn't a veteran like the others, either, who've all been at it for ten years or more. An interesing middle phase, where she and Arcee are comfortable with each other and fight well together but don't know much about the other's history, etc. 
> 
> Warning: this also might be the last chapter for a while, (or forever, if I never get back to it), because exams. Bleh.
> 
>   
> Everyone who synchs with Arcee gets instant battle make-up.  
> I _tried_ to make June's pilot suit as cool as I imagine it...
> 
> Edit: I first based her pilot suit on 'Sadie' (Arcee's hologram), but I remade it to look cooler and more in tune with the others':  
> 
> 
> Also, in case you've never seen a [spooked owl ](https://siriusknotts.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/owl-threat-display-cp-to-mothman-sketch.jpg) before (you're welcome).
> 
> The mechs so far:
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02:???  
> B-03: Wheeljack  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05:???  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07: Smokescreen  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09: Ultra Magnus  
> B-10:???
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: Soundwave  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: Starscream  
> A-05: Makeshift  
> A-06: Airachnid  
> A-07: ???  
> A-08: ???  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	16. Chapter 16

You (3:45 AM)> Rise and shine asshole  
You (3:45 AM)> We're leaving  
Arrogant Asshole (3:46 AM)> My, someone's charming today. Didn't get your beauty sleep?  
Arrogant Asshole (3:46 AM)> And what's with the 'we'. I didn't agree to anything.  
You (3:48 AM)> I go, u go, we all go  
You (3:49 AM)> I've got some stuff for you to load  
Arrogant Asshole (3:49 AM)> What's in it for me.  
You (3:51 AM)> Getting out of this cesspit isn't enough?  
Arrogant Asshole (3:51 AM)> Oh, we're moving shop? _Finally_. Could've lead with that, darling. How much?  
You (3:56 AM)> What part of leaving dindt you get  
You (3:57 AM)> Everything  
Arrogant Asshole (3:57 AM)> You break my suspension, I break yours.  
Arrogant Asshole (3:57 AM)> And you better not ask anything else of me for the next month, capisce?  
You (4:00 AM)> Sure your Highness  
You (4:01 AM)> I'll just tell Silas to be a good boy and mind his own bisiness when I walk everywhere  
You (4:01 AM)> And a kill-me-red possesd car sashays around in front of his nose  
You (4:02 AM)> Im sure he won't suspect a thing  
Arrogant Asshole (4:02 AM)> You know, I'm beginning to wonder about the state of your logic circuits. Tell me again why we're driving _towards_ the crazy megalomaniac instead of taking a nice, long vacation in Canada? I could go blue again. I liked blue.  
You (4:05 AM)> You bitched the entire time you were blue  
You (4:05 AM)> ANd no.  
You (4:05 AM)> Its either purple or green sorry  
You (4:06 AM)> And as te 1 driving I say green  
Arrogant Asshole (4:06 AM)> Well, _you_ 're not the one who might end up on a lab table now, are you?  
You (4:08 AM)> Ud prefer it if I was up there with you?  
Arrogant Asshole (4:08 AM)> Why yes, I would. What's the saying? Misery loves company?  
You (4:10 AM)> Ha ha  
You (4:10 AM)> We're affiliating with MECH.  
You (4:10 AM)> And ur going to be a dutiful brainless little car everytime that bastards watching  
You (4:11 AM)> _Capisce_?  
Arrogant Asshole (4:11 AM)> Suck my camshaft, _daddy_.  
.  
.  
.  
**[Would you like to delete this conversation? (YES <|NO)]**  
...  
**[30 Messages deleted]**  
**[You have 0 messages]**  
  
  


They drove into the night in stony silence. His seat felt like it was stuffed with rocks.  
They didn't have any sort of connection-- lucky for him, considering that the only thing left of the poor sod that did was his _voice_ \-- but he didn't need one to know that the mech was well and truly furious. And terrified.  
And rightly so: he was driving him towards his doom just to save his own skin; really, it was a wonder he hadn't already dumped him into a ditch and driven off, dependant or not. He might even survive longer that way.  
Guilt gnawed at his stomach. It hadn't mattered that he'd been stuck as a car for over ten years ("eleven years, three months and fifteen days, but who's counting", he'd told him bitterly), that he'd lowered himself to the levels of back alley filth moving from state to state on the run, searching for small inconspicuous energon deposits to extract and enrich and experiment with behind sealed doors like a methhead in his lab, that Bastard had sniffed them out anyway. Guess the universe didn't feel like giving up its chew toy.

The worst thing was, he might've even known the entire time; he'd agreed on the basis he _had_ , at first--what was the point of hiding in that case-- before he'd gone and made him doubt himself with that parting phrase. But they had it hanging over their head either way, didn't they?  
  
So there they were, on their way to becoming pawns in the hands of deranged s.o.b.-- he knew his promises weren't worth jack shit if he had more to gain from breaking them-- and/or dissected, depending on how much the powers that be intended to fuck them over.  
He ran his fingers through his hair and the mech made a truly valiant effort at making himself as uncomfortable as possible, taking the rocks one step further by giving them jagged edges and a distinctly phallic shape; symbolism, _hilarious_. Which was the very least he deserved, and the asshole knew it.  
But he didn't knock him out with the stun-beam he _knew_ he had in his cab, or stall, or drive into the nearest bog.  
Of course he didn't. They both knew the only alternative was a death sentence. And a marred paintjob, to add insult to injury.

(...He didn't even consider the third option because, as he saw it, it was nothing but fantasy.)  
  


They arrived at the scheduled rendezvous as the sky began to lighten behind the row of mountains, and were soon flanked by MECH agents on both sides. Looked like the head honcho hadn't bothered showing up for his first day on the job (how flattering, that he'd personally payed him a visit for his sales pitch).  
"We'll escort you to your first assignment," one said, and lead them-- one human, one robot in disguise-- into the underground parking lot of the secret bunker.

* * *

"You're back!"  
"Hey, Raf. You look better."  
And he did, with only one small bandage visible under his shirt and no wheelchair in sight; the middle schooler looked up at the two teens, adjusted his glasses and smiled.  
"Thanks! Yeah, I guess. 06 told me to come by every week. Um... how've you been doing?"  
Jack was content sit back and let Miko handle most of the talking, since her nonchalant attitude was probably the best for recounting their latest adventures with shapeshifters and killer robot spiders without traumatizing their audience, although he did seem rather blasé about the whole thing (perhaps getting shot full of radioactive superfuel made subsequent close-encounters comparatively dull, who knew).  
"So have you discovered new powers? Can you see through walls now? Or zap stuff with lightning?" She wiggled her fingers. Raf laughed.  
"Nah, just talk to computers. Like C-3PO."  
"Aw."  
  
The nearby control panel lit up and Fowler's face appeared on the screen.  
"Prime! You spot any Decepticons in hula skirts lately?"  
Pax glanced up with a long-suffering expression.  
"No, Special Agent Fowler. _Why_."  
"'Cause I was _hoping_ you'd have a lead on the 'Cons that busted into the Kauai Naval Observatory in Hawaii: place looked like it was hit with an army of wrecking balls!"  
"Why would 'Cons break into an observatory?" 06 wondered. "The Jansky array and the research centers I get, but an _observatory_?"  
"Does the Heuck Nigoghossian telescope ring any bells?"  
"Oh, it's a deep space telescope!" Raf piped up. They all turned to look at him; the boy flushed and tried to unobtrusively edge out of sight behind the CPU banks.  
"That's right. Since the raid, it's been missing its primary lens. Tracking says it seems to be headed towards the _Arctic_ , of all places." And he showed the coordinates.  
"Isn't that the location of the unmineable MD-7 class energon deposit?" 04 asked.  
"Unmineable, until Starscream melts his way down to it with a giant lens: it was deemed unextractable because the only way to reach it would be to destroy the ice cap, putting the ecosystem in jeopardy; which I believe A-04 would have no qualms doing."  
"Yeah, no kidding," Richardson muttered, and they called in the mechs.  
  
"Wow, the _Arctic_?" Raf breathed, peering around the banks at the bridge runway where the three mechs and their pilots were headed. "I've always wanted to see snow."  
Jack got a flashback of Miko skipping through the portal and squinted at him suspiciously: no way was he letting _that_ happen again. Orion paused on the platform.  
"If the location and circumstances were different, I might invite you to come along; but the extreme temperatures alone would be far too dangerous for you, never mind the ever-present Decepticon threat."  
"Yes, of course sir! I understand."  
The pilot must have noticed Raf's dejected look, because, after getting on 01's palm, he paused and looked back once more.  
"If you'd like, I could bring back a snowball for you to 'study'," he said, mouth twitching upwards.  
"An _Optimus-sized_ one?" Miko said delightedly. "That's not a snow _ball_ , that's a snow _mountain_."  
The boy fidgeted again, grin forming on his face.  
"Yeah, I'd like that."  
  
  


They left soon after. Combs shooed the kids towards the medbay to wait for the doctor to arrive and check on Raf, since 06 was out (and get them out of his hair, probably).

As they reached the end of the corridor, Raf froze; Jack and Miko continued on for a couple steps before registering his absence, and turned around curiously.  
"Raf?"  
He put his finger to his lips; they fell silent.  
Then they heard it too: a strange, faint grinding noise, like a loaded sled on gravel. It was coming from behind the last door in the hall.  
They looked at each other; Miko made to move towards it but Jack clasped her shoulder.  
"We can't enter unmanned areas, remember?" She gave a disparaging snort.  
"Oh, come on. Like _you_ 've never broken the rules before." Yeah, because of _her_. "Besides, the only thing in there's the baby robot, right? Nothing dangerous."  
Raf looked intrigued.  
" _Baby_ robot?"  
"B-10," Jack explained. "They haven't finished building it yet. 00 said--"

A disjointed cacophony of something metallic and _massive_ crashing to the ground cut him off. They jumped back, startled; the door detected the movement and slid open.  
  


B-10 was lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, and seemed to be having a _seizure_ : its limbs were firing off in random directions, its armour juddered and its eyes kept flickering on and off erratically; electricity arced from the gaps in its chest. Raf staggered back and the teens caught him just before he keeled over in a faint.  
" _Raf_!"  
  
The mech whipped its head around; its gear-shaped irises spun and its pupils dilated as it zeroed in on them, and there was a *click click _**clunk**_ * as one of its arms splintered and reshaped itself into a firearm.  
  
"Run." Jack said, calmly. The double-barreled, blue-white shot passed by on either side of them, one foot above their heads.  
  
They _ran_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came kind of as a surprise? I had most of it done anyway, sooo...


	17. Chapter 17

Jack and Miko ran, shrieking, down the hall dragging an unconscious Raf behind them. B-10 burst out of its room, hit and piled up against the facing 09 bay door and slid down it halfway before it parted and sent the mech to the floor in a heap of flailing limbs and blasters. Ratchet and Jeff appeared at the other end of the corridor.  
" _What_ is going _ON_ over th-- _eaargh_!" A stray beam rebounded off the wall, narrowly avoided frying the bot's antenna and hit one of the screens, a spiderweb of cracks spreading from the hole as it fizzled out; as one, the 00s turned and yelled **"I NEEDED THAT!"**

The trio hurtled past them into the hangar. B-10 got up, swaying like a frat boy three sheets to the wind and blundered towards them in a manner reminiscent of a zombie: it seemed to have some trouble coordinating its legs, tripping itself and constantly having to re-adjust its course. Seemed to have problems with its weapons too, as it paused to stare down at its discharging ion ray-guns like they had personally offended it.   
  
Combs took one look at this scene, closed his eyes and fell into synch; Ratchet mirrored his movements. Then he sprang towards the glitching 'Bot, twisted its arms behind its back, reached into its gaping chassis and disconnected the entire upper-limb supply network; the biolights on its hands went dark and it stopped shooting things at random.   
For one golden moment, the situation appeared under control.

And then B-10's eyes guttered and it started seizing again.   
Not having to worry about getting slapped by thrashing arms, 00 only preoccupied himself with holding its head so it wouldn't crack it open against the floor and waited for the episode to pass. It was eerie: voiceless or not, he felt like it should be making at least _some_ sort of sound, but it didn't, even as its embryonic EM field crashed wildly against his own like waves on a lighthouse. A piece of plating came loose in his hands.   
When the gray mech finally stopped spasming and went limp, Ratchet, after waiting to make sure it wasn't going to restart, turned it over to examine it. His eyes widened.

 **"Breach, located,"** he said tonelessly. Combs opened his eyes and stared, at a loss of words.

"What is it?" He finally asked, moving a bit closer. 00 lifted 10 up and angled its exposed occipital processing unit towards him, a unit that was visibly _missing_ something.  
"... _Communication_ module?" The pilot asked, more out of bafflement than for confirmation; Ratchet nodded anyway, then made the surprisingly human gesture of shrugging to reflect the feeling back.

  
Sensing that the danger had passed, the kids peered around the corner curiously. Smokescreen, who had been doing the same since a few moments prior, tilted his head and vanished back into his bay; 00 could feel him and 03 monitoring them through telemetry from the other side of the wall.  
Raf groaned and sat up, curled into a ball and clutched his head.  
"Who's crying?" He mumbled. "Somebody make it _stop_." Jeff winced at looked at Ratchet pleadingly; he huffed-- which as a mech meant blowing air harshly out of his side-vents instead of an inexistent nose-- but the pilot felt no annoyance through their mind meld, even a sense of agreement. B-10's eyes came back online, dim, and the trembling that followed had nothing to do with misfiring cyber-synapses; 00 raised it so that one of its audials was resting against his chest and began to purr. 

"D'aw," Jack said softly; Miko started to squee and muffled herself with one hand. Raf straightened and looked up at the mechs, still rubbing his temples.  
"What's wrong with him?"   
"He's missing a part of his processor. The part that deals with recognizing certain types of patterns, to be more exact. And..." he stopped for a minute to listen to Ratchet "it's been remotely activated? Really?" He glanced at the other. "Well, that explains his awakening. The outside stimuli must have acted as a trigger. And B-10 seems to be partially responding to them even now, if these fits are anything to go by."  
"Wait, you mean Not-09 stole some of his _brain_? What the _heck_!" Three humans and one mech rounded on the girl and made shushing noises. She clapped her hand back onto her mouth.  
"Essentially." Combs sighed. " _Why_ , though, is anyone's guess."  
  


B-10 answered him.  
  


Well, not with _words_ , as he currently had neither a voice nor the means to translate thought into written, signed, radio or any kind of language other than what little could be conveyed through field, and probably didn't even do it purpose since he had no way of understanding what they were saying. But he nevertheless answered.

By broadcasting a _live audio feed_ to everyone and everything in his immediate vicinity; the intact screens in the control room went white as the priority transmission boomed from all the speakers in the base--  
  
  


**"Decepticons! Your rightful lord and master... has _returned_!"**  
  


  
...silence.  
It lasted only ten seconds, as something shorted in B-10's processor cutting off the connection to its lost component; his eyes shuttered and he convulsed and Ratchet had to hold him down again, putting more weight on his legs so he wouldn't knee him in the face.   
  
Combs stood in the middle of the hall, still with shock; he looked down at his hands, then up at 10, then back to the screens in the control room with a look of dawning horror.  
"Ratchet," he whispered. "We have to warn them. And we _have_ to disconnect all of B-10's higher functions before Megatron notices the link and tracks it to this location." 00's pauldrons sagged unhappily and he tightened his hold on the other; the pilot shook himself out of his daze, looked up at his mech seriously then dashed back into the hangar to contact the team.  
  
Ratchet gently maneuvered B-10 so that he could reach into his chest again; but unplugging a bot's processor was much more complex than simply cutting power from his arms, especially when said 'bot was thrashing about for a combination of an accretion of errors and panic and he didn't want to hurt him more than he already was. 03 and 07 were trying to help by signaling _**safe**_ / ** _calm_** / ** _presence_ **through EMF, but they were _race_ -cars, unpiloted ones at that, and as such had a restless undertone to their fields that really only made matters worse. 

"Hey, hey, it's all right." Raf had crept up until he was only just far enough from 00 to give him room to work. 10 turned to stare at him. The boy splayed his hands in front of himself, making low, crooning noises as if to soothe a trapped wild animal. This close to the mech, he could see all the details of his strange, deep-set whirlpool eyes and how his pupils contracted to focus on him until they became near-invisible; and also feel the full brunt of _**scared** _that was rolling off him in waves strong enough to have made him faint.  
He edged closer and set a palm on smooth shoulder armour; the bot looked down at the point of contact, then back up, interest momentarily overtaking anxiety. Good. Raf began to babble about anything and everything that crossed his mind, like school and his sisters and his toy car collection and video games while tracing shapes on the metal, and B-10 sank down, only twitching from time to time from foreign feedback and whenever 00 clicked a lock open.

The last thing he heard Raf say before Ratchet disconnected his cervical cables was "see you later, alligator."  
  


* * *

  
  
**"Lord Megatron? You are...you're healed! Praise the heavens! It's a miracle!"  
**  
**"Oh, it will be a miracle all right, Starscream... if you survive what I have planned for _you_." **  
  


* * *

  
  
The others returned rather worse for wear, particularly Optimus who looked like he'd been set to roast in an overclocked tanning booth for a couple days, while Arcee and Bulkhead were half frozen with their joints creaking and shaking ice off with every step.   
  
While all sorts of drama unfolded in the control room, the kids left for the medbay to keep Raf company while the doctor checked him over, and Miko quietly freaked out when he slid hair-thin needles under his scalp for an electroencephalography; they were sat in the same spot he'd had his first check-up, with a good view of B-10's room, only this time his door was ajar and they could see him around the corner, offline and propped against his dock with the faint blue glow of his reactor casting light on the launch tower.  
As they waited, the bridge opened and more teams of operators, agents and engineers came through, many more than Jack had gotten used to seeing around the base (it reminded him of how it had been that first night, after 08 had died); most of then stayed in the hangar, but a dozen or so trickled into the repair bay and he saw a group of agents (including Fowler, who glanced at them once disinterestedly before moving on) enter and exit various rooms, unaccompanied by any of the pilots, doing who knows what.  
  
They had to leave once the doctor started doing things like testing whether Raf's brainwaves were influenced by him being near energon-- the small vial he'd brought out didn't contain a dangerous amount of it, but it was still a bit radioactive-- and that was the last they saw of him. Jack retreated to his mom's house and Miko to 04's (since the party had moved to Wheeljack's bay), and spent the rest of the evening messaging each other and finally sneaking off to the lounge platform to watch cartoons after the people in suits had moved elsewhere.  
  
  


The next day, they found out 'what'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain: So, do you want the first scene with B-10 to be cute, tense, angsty or funny?  
> Me: Yes.  
> B-10 (he doesn't have his name yet) is gonna be a literal BABY robot, and I'm going to have so much fun with that. ~~Also kind of amazed it took Ratchet/Jeff/00 _seventeen_ chapters to say "I needed that"...~~
> 
> Again, this was the second part of the last chapter... I divided it because, again, it was getting too long. The idea of mechs using telemetry to keep track of friends/comrades/enemies is stolen directly from the [Xenoethnography](https://archiveofourown.org/series/913458) series by Therrae. Y'all should read it, it's awesome.
> 
> The mechs so far:
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02:???  
> B-03: Wheeljack  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05:???  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07: Smokescreen  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09: Ultra Magnus  
> B-10: Bumblebee
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: Soundwave  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: Starscream  
> A-05: Makeshift  
> A-06: Airachnid  
> A-07: ???  
> A-08: ???  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	18. Chapter 18

The next day found the teens, once again, in the Nevada Base, mostly because Miko had dragged Jack there after school under the pretense of doing homework together (two hours later and they hadn't even gotten their books out), but also because it was becoming something of a habit for him.   
Anyway there they were, busily _not_ working on school stuff, and after the nth group of people walked past talking animatedly, they'd gotten curious and peeked out of 06's double doors to find a whole lot of new faces loitering about the main hall doing... nothing, as far as he could tell. Whoever they were, they seemed to be divided into two groups-- a far larger one comprised of those with white highlights on their cadet suits, and those with midnight blue-- and that was how he finally recognized them: the blue guys were Smokescreen's trainees (whom he only ever saw from afar, usually perched on the mech somewhere). But what were they all doing here together?  
  
June joined them and leaned against the wall, observing the scene with a frown.   
"The UN officials are getting impatient with our lack of results with B-07," she muttered, irritated, "so they're trying to find a way to speed up the selection process. God knows what that entails."  
Jack felt a twinge of guilt. He knew he'd done nothing to help said process when he'd taken Smokescreen out to the mine. Or by hanging around so often. On second thought, perhaps it was best to not let visiting the base become a habit.   
But if these people were the prospective pilots, then the white ones had to be--  
"And them?" He asked, pointing at the group farther down the corridor.  
"B-03's," she answered, and winced. "He's not very happy."  
On cue, his bay doors opened and a haggard looking man walked out; Richardson, posted at the exit, smiled sympathetically and clapped him on the back as he meandered past wearing a thousand-yard stare.  
"Why?"  
She shrugged.  
"Who knows. But they've been in and out all day. Honestly, I'd be annoyed too."  
  
He glanced back at B-07. The mech was awake and standing ramrod straight so as not to dislodge the numerous cadets clambering all over him. One was even sitting on his head.   
His face, like most mech's, wasn't highly expressive out of synch, but his doorwings had an uncomfortable tilt to them and Jack had to wonder if they realized he was a thinking, _feeling_ being. He himself had only internalized it a short while ago, possibly when he'd seen Ratchet and B-10 in the corridor. Or when he'd piloted Smokescreen and had felt his mind brush against his own. Having a bunch of tiny things crawling over you couldn't be fun: he wondered if it was anything like when the 'Bot had investigated him with his feelers in the Drift. Ew.  
In any case, he at least knew that 07 had an active, restless nature; sure he needed to be reined in on the field, but standing still like that for so long had to be low key torture for him. Poor guy.  
  


Miko took off towards 04 (the nearby cadets, all huge buff dudes, cast amused glances at the tiny pink-haired girl that came bouncing up). So much for homework.  
  
"So how's it going?" She asked the green pilot, inspecting the crowd excitedly.  
Kevin made so-so motions with his hand.  
"Ehhh... par for the course, I guess. The candidates are top notch, obviously... there's martial artists, weapon specialists, drag racers, stuntmen, the like... so far we haven't had much luck, but it's just the first day. With a group like this it shouldn't take long, they're much better prepared than the first time."  
00, standing a ways back holding a clipboard, coughed into his fist in polite disagreement, masking something about rowdy overconfident pains-in-the-ass. 04 sent him a dirty look.  
  
An explosion of snarling erupted from the bay, and everyone jumped. The doors opened and a would-be pilot, with a face to match his highlights, shot out and beat a hasty retreat looking two seconds away from screaming like a little girl (Jeff crossed another name off the list with world-weary mien); the remaining cadets got a good view of Wheeljack, still rumbling in sub-bass tones and bristling with extra sharp bits that seemed to have sprouted out of his shoulders and spine, and collectively took a step back.   
Miko thought they were being a bit silly: as she understood it, it wasn't like he could do anything to injure them seriously-- allegedly-- and they would probably stand a better chance with him if they put up a fight, or at least didn't crumple like wet tissue paper when faced with a raging giant robot; and wasn't that what they'd signed up for anyway?   
Well, whatever. She watched as another squared his shoulders and marched forward to meet his doom, and sort of wished she had popcorn.

  
  
  
A while later, someone tapped Jeff on the shoulder. He turned around, stream of expletives ready to roll off his tongue, only to cut himself short when he saw Agent Fowler.   
"What," he said acerbically. He hated dealing with the agents. Thankfully, the distasteful task usually fell on Orion's shoulders, but, joy of joys, the team leader was currently all the way over in Virginia at Ground Zero getting grilled by General Bryce. Yuck. 

"HQ sent an order to St. Hilary for a replacement for B-10."

"They _didn't_ ," Jeff hissed after a moment of silence. "Using parts from failed prototypes? Have they gone _mad_?"  
The agent raised an eyebrow.  
"We're under _red alert,_ Double-O: we need as many units on duty as possible. They don't care if it functions sub-optimally as long as it _functions_."  
"They'll care when his pilot's brain leaks out of their nose!" The agent grimaced at the imagery.  
"Then you'll be happy to know that they never got anywhere. Turns out--" he pulled a file from his inside jacket pocket "--that that last one? The one before yours, most compatible with unit 10? It wasn't there. Not a trace of it to be found."  
Jeff reeled back. 

"...Does Pax know about this?"  
"I believe the General is currently rubbing it in his face."  
00 resisted the temptation to unleash the stream. Barely.  
"So we've got Decepticons, a rogue operative _and_ a wild card. Just... fantastic." He looked at the wall longingly, wondering if he could bash his head against it without being thought crazy.  
"Find pilots for those two," Fowler said, in leu of a reply. "Engineers have reopened 10's schematics and are working on his last components whether you like it or not, so prepare to get him up and running. The sooner, the better." 

  
  
  


That evening, after the exitement had died down and the cadets, much diminished in number and spirit, had left and the base had returned to its usual cold, quiet, dimly lit state, Miko gathered up her stuff and prepared to transfer it back into 03's bay. Perhaps if she was silent enough he wouldn't notice.  
Oh, who was she kidding. He'd totally notice. He usually didn't mind, but this evening he was in a supremely rotten mood and the prospect of sleeping next door to a giant robot radiating murder felt ominous. Or did it? Perhaps it would be comforting in its familiarity, aside from the 'giant robot' bit: at least _this_ roommate wouldn't try to shave her bald. Or sprinkle itching powder in her underwear drawer. Or dump her notebooks into the koi pond. (Well, _probably_ not. She banished the thought of him using his giant swords to nick off her pigtails with a shudder.) Knowing him, he'd probably sneak out as soon as all the other units powered down.  
Where he went, she had no idea. She had a feeling no one else did either and was 90% sure it was against the rules, but since no one had ever brought it up she kept her mouth shut. He always came back before dawn anyway.

She had nearly reached the doors when she saw Kevin beckoning her from across the hall, and altered her course.  
"The trainees are moving in," he said, somewhat apologetically, "so you'll have to move out. I was thinking you could stay in the 05 bay, since I doubt we'll be getting _him_ back anytime soon." 

Well. On the upside, she wouldn't have to worry about the samurai murderbot. On the other hand... she glanced back at the 05 doors.  
...Being in an empty bay kind of sucked. They were built to house the mechs, so when they weren't there they were just too big. And cold. And quiet. Having a samurai murderbot nearby was way better.  
04 must've noticed her reluctance, because he added "You'll have 06 right in front of you, and all the houses are exactly the same. It won't be that different."   
She got an idea. Maybe...

"Actually," she asked, shuffling her feet, "can I stay with you?"  
Kevin blinked. He got that distant look pilots had when they were talking to their mechs in their head. Then he blinked again, focusing back on her.  
"I mean, sure?" He said, baffled. "But wouldn't you like to have a house all to yourself?"  
She shook her head in emphatic denial. He shrugged, and smiled a bit as he motioned her in.  
  
"Alright then."   
  


* * *

  
He was jerked out his daze when the big warehouse doors creaked open and a huge hulking figure shuffled past dragging a half-dismembered vehicon corpse; the rectangle of light thinned to a line plunging the room back into darkness, the only source remaining the glow of the mech's sickly blank eyes which too soon faded.  
MECH operatives materialized from the shadows and began hooking it up to various machines; Silas stepped out from its chest cavity onto the catwalk and began his descent. As he got closer, he noticed that he was rubbing his forehead as if to forestall a migraine.  
  
"Doctor," he called, "come. A-02 tells me you did a fine job on your first assignment. It's time you began working in earnest, and I have just the project for you."  
Yep, there it was. He got up from where he'd been lounging against the wall and followed him down to the lower levels.  
"I heard you've experimented with energon in the past."  
"Just a hobby," he answered smoothly. "Something to do to pass the time. It's such an interesting substance, after all."  
"Yes, it is." They turned a corner.  
  
The room that opened in front of them was full of enriched, liquefied energon of different shades and degrees of purity, contained in transparent, thick-sided vats of all shapes and sizes. There was so much of it there was no need for artificial lighting to see clearly.  
"Impressed?" The MECH head drawled in a 'you've not seen _anything_ yet' tone. Not waiting for a reply, he beckoned the Doctor to come closer and brought out a tiny phial of yellowish liquid; it had neither the colour nor the consistency of energon, and he had to wonder what it was. It reminded him of his mech's eyes.  
"This is what you are going to be working on from now on."  
"What is it?" He asked warily, not feeling like coming closer before he knew what he was dealing with.  
Silas pinched it between a thumb and forefinger, brought it up in front of his face and smirked; like energon, it was luminescent, and it cast sinister shadows on his furrowed features.  
  


"MECH's greatest invention."  
  


And he uncorked the phial and poured its contents into the nearest energon beaker; it shimmered and went from blue to murky teal.  
"It is, in short, an inhibitor. You see, mixing this compound with energon has some rather interesting effects, as I found out many years ago. And by far its most interesting is the property of... shall we say... _diminishing_ its potential to grant mechs independent reasoning."

So _that_ 's how he'd done it: he'd always wondered how he'd managed to fool a mental link _and_ fake synchronization. Turns out, he hadn't needed to. Genius.  
  
"Your task is finding a way to stabilize this so that I can use it in larger quantities."  
He managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.  
"No one understands exactly how energon works: anything involving it isn't something to be taken lightly," he warned a bit desperately, knowing he was in way over his head. " And why would you want to increase the ratio if it's already working fine the way it is?"  
A dark look crossed his face.  
"Because it _isn't_. My dear 'Bot is being rebellious lately, and I believe it's because it's beginning to... develop a resistance, of sorts. And it's giving me a headache every time I take over."  
  


"So, Doctor, you will find a way to up the dosage."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this is probably gonna be the last chapter since I'm going back to work on my comic this summer. But it was fun to write, and I hope it was just as fun to read!
> 
> Anyway, Miko snuck into this chapter something crazy, I love writing her. It also made the first half way funnier than it originally was and I see no problem with that.
> 
> I also feel kind of sorry for all these nameless trainees: like, I sort of... torture them? At least they're not going to _die_...


	19. Chapter 19

It was getting dark. June switched on the brights as she drove back from her monthly trip to the nearest CVS farmacy (a good twenty miles away, as Jasper didn't have one) to stock up on first-aid supplies in her old sedan, because, while Arcee was an excellent partner and fighter and she was lucky to have her, she didn't have much in terms of cargo space.   
Her haul included a veritable ton of scar cream-- the kind that doubled as sunscreen-- for Raf's burns when he returned for his next scheduled checkup, and the girl at the counter had looked at her oddly ("barbecue mishap," she'd explained with a wan smile; she'd winced), so she'd better switch to another place for the next couple runs--

\--there was something on the road. 

She slammed on the brakes, skidded to a stop and catapulted out of the car to check on the _body_ lying in the middle of the lane... which didn't seem to have any apparent injuries.   
Warning bells rang in her mind and she felt Arcee rousing at the other end of their link, instantly aware.  
_**Status**._  
_Something's wrong._  
  
She got closer, knelt beside the man and felt under his jacket collar, looking for a pulse; there was a creak and the lights switched off, and as she whirled around pulling the stun-gun from her jacket pocket, only for the man to instantly spring up and jerk her back, upsetting her balance--  
_**!June!**_  
She clocked him in the face; something went crunch. Good. A second wrenched her weapon out of her grip, and a _third_ came up from the other side and clapped a rag over her mouth and nose and she got a taste of sweet-smelling liquid-- _chloroform_. She had maybe three minutes before it really started to kick in...  
  
As she writhed, trying to escape the bear hug by reaching for her captor's face or groin, one of the other two got out a knife and tore her jacket open, exposing fifteen inches of pilot suit.  
"It's her," he reported, and she twisted enough to get a glimpse of olive green and flashing goggles. _Shit_. 

06 transmitted a jumble of sensations-- _rocky landscape blurring with great speed, blue streaks, urgency_ \--  
"Excellent work, gentlemen," came another, deeper voice. "Agent S, dispatch the comm unit to our quarry. Put it in her _den_ , that should leave the right impression." He sounded amused. June's eyes widened.  
  
_Arcee. Call backup. BACKUP._ Her thoughts were already getting foggy, despite her femme's attemps to keep her lucid. _They're coming for_ you.  
**_Let them,_ **06 snarled in reply, _**I'll rip them apart.**_  
They both knew she couldn't. Not unless June was with her. Arcee reached across their mind-meld, viciously clawing through layers of drug-induced fog and momentarily stalling its effects. _**!JUNE!**_  
_Go back,_ she sent. _They're moving towards Jasper. Jack doesn't know, he's all alone. I'll be fine. Remember what I asked of you? Go._

She _keened_ ; but, despite everything, she was a mech, not a human: she couldn't disobey a direct order from her pilot backed up by the directive. How many times must have she heard a variation of those words? _Three._  
  


_I'm sorry,_ she thought, as the fog closed in again. When this was all over, she'd have to find a way to make it up to her. _Yeah_. _That's the spirit._  
  
  


* * *

  
  
"Here's your order, sir. Thank you for stopping at KO Burger!"  
As the customer drove off, Jack's phone (his new phone, recently upgraded with the licence to contact the base from outside) beeped a notification; probably Miko trying to get him to come by again.  
It kept ringing with message after message, so he finally tossed his head back in exasperation and opened it just to see what had her so worked up, only to find that the sender was... his _mom_? It had to be important if she was messaging him during work, but why hadn't she just called? His brow furrowed as he scrolled through them.

Mom (5:39 PM)> DIR_PERSONAL_032==TRUE? --> 1  
Mom (5:40 PM)> UIo18+ùàò§ç*èvjOJDF  
Mom (5:41 PM)> %%%OISD928+ùì'<<23^£%%%  
Mom (5:41 PM)> ALLOC.CHAR.ALPHABET(SAMSUNG_GT-i5800_BD73)=ISO_BASIC_LATIN  
Mom (5:42 PM)> RESET[LEXICON, GRAMMAR](SAMSUNG_GT-i5800_BD73)=ENGLISH  
Mom (5:43 PM)> JACK.  
Mom (5:44 PM)> Jack.  
Mom (5:44 PM)> Jack Darby.  
Mom (5:44 PM)> I know you're open.  
Mom (5:44 PM)> Return to your household.  
Mom (5:45 PM)> Jack.  
Mom (5:46 PM)> Jack, respond.  
Mom (5:47 PM)> I know your location.  
Mom (5:48 PM)> Jack, respond at once.  
Mom (5:50 PM)> If you don't come I will come to you instead.  
Mom (5:59 PM)> I can see you.

That was _not_ his mom. He typed a tentative reply.  
You (6:00 PM)> RC?   
Mom (6:00 PM)> Yes.  
Oh. So she could apparently do that now.  
Mom (6:00 PM)> Return to your house immediately.

He glanced out of the drive thru booth at the darkening driveway. His boss wouldn't be thrilled if he left early considering all the days he'd skipped recently...  
You (6:01 PM)> Can it wait until after I finish my shift?   
Mom (6:01 PM)> NO.  
You (6:02 PM)> It's only half an hour  
Mom (6:02 PM)> I DON'T CARE.  
  
Well jeez, okay then. He stood with a sigh and resigned himself to a future tongue-lashing.  
  
Mom (6:05 PM)> Keep your phone turned on.   
  
  


As he rode home he spied a silent figure shadow him along the back alleys running parallel to the main road, and when he got there he glimpsed the tail end of the overhead garage door sliding shut. If he hadn't been looking for it, he wouldn't have noticed.  
He got off his bike, rolled up the portcullis and ducked under it, and was faced with an enourmous rippling mass of barbs and stick-thin, hollow limbs filling any and all available space.

"Jesus--" he slammed the door down "-- _Christ_ , Arcee."  
She regarded him as if he were a particularly interesting insect; the bare-wire lightbulb was dangling dangerously close to her horns.   
**"You are in danger,"** she told him flatly.  
"Huh?"  
She fixed her gaze on a distant point to the east.  
**"Convo of suspect vehicles passed close to Jasper, Nevada one hour ago according to traffic-control camera feed. Headed minus-seventy-degrees northeast. Bright heart is with them. Contacted the base for persuit. No signal. Danger. Pilot is compromised."** She placed her palm on her chest, winglets twitching fretfully. **"Directive."**

There was a moment of silence as he parsed the meaning of her words.  
"Mom got _kidnapped_?" He asked, alarmed. Although...   
The pilot's identities were classified, unknown to everyone except the military upper echelon, and why would someone kidnap a retired nurse? Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding. 00 had said that had happened before. That had to be the case. _Right_?  
As if sensing his doubt, Arcee narrowed her eyes.

"Look, if the others aren't anwering comms I can... call Miko. She should be there, perhaps she knows something."  
  


  
"Hey Jack." She sounded bored out of her wits.  
"Hey. Is mom there?"  
" _No one's_ here," she complained. "I've only seen 04 for like, five minutes today, he's either out fighting 'Cons or with Wheeljack's guys, and I _asked_ if I could come along--" "Miko" "--but he said it would be too _dangerous_ , even if I promised I would watch them from _really_ far away--" "Miko" "--and it's not _fair_ , they're just as squishable as me, why do _they_ get front row seats for target practice, _target practice_ , in a _landfill_ " she moaned petulantly, " _I_ wanted to see stuff blowing up too--" "MIKO!"   
She interrupted her rant.  
"What?"  
"Have you seen her at _all_ today?"

The back of his neck prickled and he turned to glance at Arcee, who, being the smallest Autobot, had managed (barely) to fit her head through the doorframe that connected the garage to the house and had fixed her unblinking, pink-flecked stare on him, hunched over on all fours and looming like a vulture.   
"I don't think so?" The girl ventured. "Isn't she with the rest of the team?"   
"Can you _ask_?"  
"I told you, there's no one _here_! Even Combs left hours ago!"  
"Oh yeah, sorry. When they get back, can you call me?"  
"Yeah, sure."  
"Thanks." He hung up.   
  
Okay. Stay calm.   
  
He turned towards the femme.   
"Are you sure she isn't--" he made a vague gesture "--out getting groceries, or something?"  
He set his backpack down by the coatrack, made for the hall-- and turned back, because there was something _off_. Arcee hissed.  
  
**"Sense pilot, far away. Fought. Got _faint_."**  
There was an unfamiliar package on the floor.  
**"Jack."**  
He picked it up; as soon as she saw it, Arcee's hackles rose.  
**"ABERRATION."**  
She ducked out of the door only to stick her arm through to pluck it from his grip, in full view of the window. He wondered, somewhat hysterically, what they would do if the old couple across the road happened to glance their way and see a giant disembodied hand travelling around their house.   
She ripped the package open and a communicator fell out; it activated.  
  


_"Hello, B-06."_  
**" _Silas_."** Her plating reverberated with a growl.  
"Silas?" Jack whispered. "Who's Silas?"  
**"MECH."** Well, that was enlightening.   
_"How nice to hear your dulcet tones. You've felt your pilot's absence by now, surely?"_  
Jack inhaled sharply and muffled himself with a shirt-sleeve.  
_"Oh, don't worry. We would prefer not to harm her, it's_ you _we want after all. But if you try contacting your team again we will be forced to take unsavoury measures: her safety resides solely in your hands."_  
The femme tensed; her winglets rose and scraped against the ceiling.  
_"You mechs share a special bond with your pilots, don't you? All you need to do is follow it to the temporary facility we set up. You have until midnight. Plenty of time, wouldn't you agree? But remember: no outside interference."_  
  
A light flashed red and Arcee shoved the teen away right before the transmitter initiated self-destruct, leaving nothing but a charred ring on the wood.  
  


"You have to go," he muttered. The femme's hand didn't budge from where it had him pinned against the wall.  
" _Arcee_."  
**"Directive,"** she looked him in the eye. **"Guardian."**  
"Forget about _me_ , you have to go help _her_!"  
**"Until return, complete, strong. Directive: 'keep Jack Darby safe'."**  
"But she's _your pilot_!" He yelled, thowing secrecy to the wind.  
She bared her teeth in a snarl, and her other hand gripped the floor so hard she left gouges in the cement.  
  
**" _Directive_."** Her eyes flashed; but her wings were angled east again. And it hit him.

"She told you to do that, didn't she." _Damnit_. Of course she had. It would've been the first thing she had done after the incident, damn, _damn_.

"What's MECH?" He finally asked, choosing to focus on something potentially useful (he doubted 00 could order _Arcee_ to keep mum, mechs did what they felt like within the boundaries of their kernel protocols)--  
**"Terrorists."** Oh.  
**"They wish to establish a new world order by using stolen revolutionary weapons."** Oh no.  
**"They have made it clear they're not above sacrificing human lives to do so."** Oh _no_.  
**"Their leader, code name 'Silas', was once a pilot as well. It was later discovered he'd had an agenda the entire time, after his betrayal caused the death of one of ours and the capture of another."** _Fucking_ \--  
**"He was linked to the one before me, who is no one now."** \-- _SHIT_.

Her tone hadn't wavered the entire time, only modulated by the faintest of subharmonics from her engine; she was still pressing him against the wall, but he wasn't really registering it anymore.  
"And they know where we _live_?" He hissed, gripping her thumb. 06 blinked.   
**"Yes. Location, compromised."**

Right. Perhaps he could work around this.  
"Then I'm not safe here."  
**"Jack Darby is safest in the base, with Team. Team is out of reach. Next to safest: with me."** Here she stopped and shifted, relaxing her hold and letting him slide to the floor. **"Don't want to reach Team."** Her tone, while flat before, went completely dead. **"I'm not losing another partner."**  
_Right_.  
  


"So go," he said. "And take me with you."  
  
  


* * *

  
Miko wandered into the control room and climbed onto the lateral mezzanine. She was so bored she'd done that english essay due in a _week_. She could cry. Even _Jack_ seemed to be in the middle of something interesting, and he hadn't even deigned to visit the base! _How_?  
"When they get back, call me--" she mimicked sourly, kicking at a handrail support. "Yeah, like _tomorrow_. Stupid trainees..."

The elevator on the other side of the room dinged and an agent walked out. It wasn't Fowler. It wasn't any of the usuals, either-- she'd never seen him in her life. She wondered if she should go tell him that he'd come at the wrong time, since there was no one there.  
The agent looked around, adjusted his earpiece and climbed down the stairs, heading for the bays. After a moment's deliberation, she shrugged and followed him.  
  


She found him inside 07's room, taking notes on an I-Pad.   
"Hey," she called and he started, which was actually pretty funny. Maybe he _hadn't_ expected anyone to be there.   
He gave her a once-over.  
"Who are you-- one of the operator's daughters? " She opened her mouth to correct him but he continued before she had the chance. "Nevermind. Civilian, right? Go away, I'm working." She moved closer.

"What are you working on?" He gave her the stink eye.  
"Classified." Urgh, _why_.  
"Why are you in 07's bay?"  
"Classified."  
"Does it have to do with all the people here two days ago?"  
" _Classified_ ," he ground out. He'd stopped writing, and now was just staring at 07's empty dock trying his best to ignore her. Well, he could _try_.  
"Oh, come on." She remembered something. "Hey, do you know where 06 is?"  
" _No_. Look, if you don't go away, I'll--" he stopped. She stared back, undaunted.

" _Gah_ ," he said quietly and tried to shake her off by striding towards 10's bay instead.  
She grinned and followed suit. Pestering an agent sounded much better that becoming one with the couch. Who knew, perhaps she could even squeeze something out of him, eventally.  
  


(She didn't. After twenty minutes of her trailing after him from bay to bay, he left. Boo.)  
  
  


* * *

  
  
There had been some mutual misunderstanding.

When Jack had said 'take me with you', he'd meant the way Bulkhead took Miko out to go dune bashing, or how Optimus toted all those agents around whenever they came snooping at ex-battlegrounds, or when Ratchet had gone to get Raf with his mom. 

He'd forgotten that Arcee was a motorcycle. 

In his defence, her mass seemed to at minimum _octuple_ when she switched out of alt (where did it all _go_?) , so it was rather easy to forget for someone who had only seen her in robot mode for the past month.   
Motorcycles, even sentient ones, weren't exactly built for ferrying passengers without a driver. Nevermind that the general consensus was that the B-series' self-driving skills were... lacking. For a number of reasons. (Yeah, he'd forgotten _that_ too.)

So apparently, what Arcee _thought_ he'd meant was "let me be your temporary pilot".   
  
...Okay. He had probably as much insight on the inner workings of the mechs'... minds? Processors? Souls? --as anyone who wasn't a pilot or outpost engineer could boast about, and that was precious little. Even after the thing with Smokescreen. Things. But in retrospect that had been rather vague even by human standards, and mechs by design tended to think in a results-oriented fashion: pragmatically.  
06 reared back from her hunched position; her head blocking the light was a crowned, black shape with twin ringed, icy fire-pits, the spurs on her knees and elbows sharpened and she went dead silent. And looked at him. 

That was around the time he realized that his words could've been taken in a different, possibly offensive way and he also took one step back before rethinking himself (would running away incite her to chase?), and held her assessing gaze as she picked him up by the back of his sweater --like a kitten-- leaned back, and dropped him inside her open chest compartment.

  
There was a split-second of semi familiar weightlessness before his breath was cut short by the chill of Drift-liquid, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I have returned. With a monster. Feast your eyes on this 18 KB thing I somehow produced, and weep.  
> Still don't know whether I'm going to continue this. Every time I think I've run out, inspiration strikes. Help.


	20. Chapter 20

  
06 didn't waste any time: as soon as he stopped sinking, Jack was assaulted by a tornado of fine steel hairs that wrapped themselves loosely around him, except for the ones on his wrists that cut deep into his skin as they lifted his arms-- in a detached way, he felt Arcee's do the same-- then his entire body, and they stood. Their horns knocked against the lightbulb, and it shone its incandescent glare straight into their eyes.  
" _Ow_ ," he said, because hanging like that _hurt_ and Arcee's vision was... unnatural: the light dispersed into tiny RGB particles that crawled like ants from left to right, top to bottom, forming moving fractal patterns that made him dizzy and sick to the stomach. 

He looked away and pulled on the strings, trying to free himself. The vortex of deceptively delicate strands drew closer and the ones draped on him went taut, trussing him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.  
"Let _go_."  
**Stop. Look.** He stopped. The wires lost some of their tension.   
At least, the ones hanging from him did: the others were still pulled tight vibrating a low suspended chord, and beneath that he could hear a storm picking up. Impatience? Worry?  
He felt her attention projected forwards, not-wind blowing back on his face and the eerie aeolian harps, and he saw it too: a bead of blue light, suspended midair. And, as his eyes adjusted to the dark, another. And another. And another, forming a trail leading away and disappearing into the gloom.  
  
"Is that--"  
**Follow.**

He was about to ask _how_ , given that he didn't want to make sudden movements lest he accidentally strangle himself with her hair and then the world _shattered_ ; light filtered through cracks that suddenly appeared and spread and widened, the Drift liquid with the wires surged back and he was suddenly in the garage again, sitting on a motorcycle. 

"So that's what that feels like," he muttered. "Weird."  
_**Follow.**_  
"Er. How do I--" it's not like she had any _keys_. She flashed a mix of disdain and indignation and started her engine. _**Just ask.**_  
  
  


  
They didn't know where MECH had taken June, but wherever they were it had to be within driving distance; Arcee could still feel her through the string of fairy lights that lit their way in the darkness of her mindscape, and Jack followed them into the night.  
The femme-- mercifully-- knew how to drive herself well enough that he only had to keep his eyes peeled for irregularities on the path (mechs, as he'd found out, couldn't actually _see_ in alt, or at least not as well since their eyes had to be camouflaged, and relied on GPS and secondary sensors like sonar and infrared to map their surroundings); they transformed to run through shortcuts that were too rocky or steep to drive on, and the strobe effect from switching between having chilly desert wind roaring in his ears, seeping into the gap of his collar and numbing his grip on 06's handlebars, and the relatively warm, calm, muted Drift and _back_ again was an _experience_. 

She didn't spill over everywhere in controlled chaos the way Smokescreen did: she had all the sharpness and focus of a half-concealed dagger glinting in the moonlight and directed herself with its same steely resolve, controlled and contained-- for now (he could hear hints of thunder rumbling at the edges); and, after that first moment, he didn't feel any more constructs touch him either: it was like she was trying to stay as far away from him as was politely possible.  
But their 'live fast' was the same, even if she was more agile and much, much lighter, and, when they leapt from one columnar rock formation to another to cross over a deep chasm, they _flew_. Was that why they had wings?  
  


They didn't try to contact the base again. 06's comms were still jammed and neither felt like risking it by using Jack's phone again. _Strange they didn't block all transmissions in the area_ , he thought, glancing down at his screen that still displayed all five bars. Did they not expect pilots to have cellphones on them? Or...

Arcee sent a wave of confirmation. 

Time to brush up on his acting skills, then.  
  
  


  
The 'temporary facility' turned out to be a cement factory on the outskirts of Tonopah; when they caught sight of its brightly lit red-and-white smokestacks, they reverted to root mode and approached with caution, transforming one forearm into a blaster.  
They needn't have: as soon as they stepped inside the gate, their body was peppered with tiny red dots from laser-pointers on the-- Arcee analyzed the weapons and displayed the info on her HUD-- _anti-tank_ rifles aimed at them. Jack's eyes grew hot as he blinked bright spots away, and the several dozen MECH operatives crouched in a semicircle flared into view.   
One stood and moved forward into better light (which with 06's night-vision didn't mean a whole lot), and as he got closer the teen took note of his deeply scarred visage.  
**Silas.** Jack narrowed his eyes, then forced their face back into its usual apathetic mask. Bs didn't emote like that.

"B-06. We're glad you could make it."  
**"Where is June."** Jack could feel his lips moving, but it was Arcee talking; the words came out just as unfeeling as their expression.

 **"Oh... hanging around."**  
Their joints locked.   
**No. _No_. **

And out of the shadows came Airachnid.

 **"You destroyed my ship, it's only right to pay you back in kind. You care for your pilot, right? The sweetest revenge I could devise is to make you watch as I take her apart. It may not make you talk, but I know it will make you _scream_."**  
They should've _known_ they weren't going to let her go unharmed. Out of the corner of their eye they saw the gate shut and MECH operatives moving to surround them.  
**"Now, normally I'd give you a fighting chance to free her. I do so love sport, after all. But alas, the downside of 'teaming up against a common enemy' is that you can never have it all. And I find myself rather _vexed_ over the loss of my treasure." **  
Her tone, which had started out light, ended with a snarl. And she fired a web at them.  
  


Here's the thing.  
The engineers behind the mechs' plans had never figured out a way to shorten their reaction time to something comparable to a human's-- or the invader's, even if their capacity to multitask and apprehend and store information was eons greater. That's why the drones' performance was substandard. That's why the Cortical Psychic Patch, and later the Drift, had come to exist: they were _necessary_.  
So in that moment, had Arcee not been piggybacking on Jack's reflexes she would've certainly been hit, a death sentence for both herself and the woman she was linked to: the second generation hadn't been built to fight alone. 

But she wasn't alone. And thus, much to the shock of her opponents, the trap struck the ground instead as B-06 vanished in a streak of ultramarine blue.  
  


  
(Somewhere deep in the middle of the factory, the pilot woke up. The beads began, ever so slowly, to move again, drawn out of her like unspooling thread.)  
  


All their external lights were switched off. Their night vision, like a cat's eyes, wasn't as good without the blue-pink glow behind their lenses, but it was passable and the soul trail stood out in higher contrast as consequence. As they neared the end it got muddled, wavering around silos as if it were made of something that could be constrained by material objects, and at some point it sloped upwards and coiled lazily around a preheater tower draped with web filaments.   
They went towards it under the cover of the rotary kiln and wondered how they would get to the top without being spotted. Perhaps there was enough room to scale it from the inside? They unfurled their sensory panels and searched it for security cameras.  
Something clanged against the outside of the tower, and they crouched low as Airachnid moved up the structure daintily on her six spider legs; from the gap between two support beams, Jack saw Silas approach and gesture to his team to spread out.  
  
"My source didn't mention that June Darby had any living relatives," he was saying.  
**"And yet,"** A-06 hummed, scanning the area. They inched away as silently as they knew how and started the climb.  
**"I know my counterpart. As long as her pilot lives, she will refuse to let anyone else that close. Unless... "** her talons went *clink clink clink* on the metal as she circled around the tower **"...they are _similar_ enough, in mind and blood. Didn't that happen before? Yes." **They shuffled in the opposite direction. **"With dear Cliffjumper, I believe. His last two pilots were twins, weren't they? A matching set. I would have _loved_ to add that to my collection..."**  
She stopped on the eave right on top of them. Jack shrank into the shadows.

 **"So, who is it? A sister?"** She called. **"Hmmm, no, that's not right. A daughter?"** That was _too_ close. The 'Con paused and tasted the air, and her grin widened.  
**"Or, perhaps... a son?"**

He knew what she was playing at and tried really, _really_ hard to not react. But this was a skill that Airachnid had honed for years, and Jack didn't have any training to ward against it: she read their field like an open book.   
**"Why, _Arcee_ ,"** she sing-songed **"I didn't know you had an interest in _men_."** And she flipped upside-down, grin morphing into something nightmarish.  
**"FOUND YOU."**  
Airachnid's tarsi sank into a cement funnel instead of their torso -- _just a bit higher_ , they jumped--  
  


Straight into one of the beads.   
Instead of disappearing right before making contact as it had done every other time, Jack watched, in slow motion, as it was swallowed into their chest-- 

They were rising but he was falling, pulled down by the tide, and he had trouble _breathing_ , as if his lungs had finally realized that what they'd been taking in wasn't air. At the bottom, three shades awaited him. The first crumbled into dust and ashes. The second bent double clutching its chest, lost its hair then the entire lower half of its body, collapsed and dispersed in the swirling eddies. The third looked up--

The world inverted and he was being lifted instead. As he was swept past it into the light, the last figure's outlines sharpened and it was _June_ , staring at him with an unreadable expression-- 

He was outside. The full moon shone brightly on the horizon, peeking between clouds. A bit of Drift fluid still clung to his jacket; it was cold. 06 pressed him against her chest, twisted and _oh god were they high up._  
**"Jack!"**  
" _Mom_?" And it wasn't her, not exactly, but she still squeezed him tight in reply as they reached the peak of their flight and dropped. She formed a firearm-- different from the ones she usually used, bulbous, not elongated-- and shot a beam of concentrated plasma at the base of the tower; it erupted in a geyser of cement that covered everything in its vicinity.  
  


She didn't wait to check whether she had gotten them all: she ran until she'd put a good ten miles between them and the industrial zone, then Jack called Agent Fowler through his still working phone.  
  
  
  


When they got back to the base, it was only a couple minutes before ten. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed my language gets. Erhm. _Flowery_ (?) when describing the Drift, and it's _really_ apparent in this chapter. Yeah.  
> Not super happy about that, but what can you do XD.
> 
> There were tons upon tons of pictures I could've made for this chapter, like the mental link or Airachnid's nightmare face or June and Jack passing each other in the Drift, but in the end I went with Arcee's night vision because it was a) easier and b) I felt like I didn't describe it too well.
> 
>   
> Who says that guyliner isn't awesome?  
>    
> I was wondering whether to add a final scene at the end with Fowler, but I think I'll just put that in the next chapter since it works just as well as an intro.


	21. Chapter 21

Ever since they got back, Arcee hadn't let June out of her sight; she held her in her cupped hands like she would trickle out like water if she wasn't careful, bringing her knees up in front as if to shield her from the universe. 

"Jack," the blue pilot said, once they had returned to the relative privacy of the 06 bay. She seemed to be fighting an internal struggle.  
  
"The only reason I took on 06's mantle, all those years ago, was because of you," she began quietly. "To protect you. I didn't want you to have any part in this war, to be afraid for your life. Perhaps I could've done better. Perhaps, if I had said no, nothing would have happened and we would have fallen back into anonymity."   
"But... things change. If I were to go back, now, I'd do it again." She quirked a smile. "The people on this team... they're _good_. 'Fighting for our planet' feels too abstract. I fight for _them_. And..."

"...I can't fault you for coming to save me, because in your place I would've done the same thing. You've grown up. I still don't want you to get involved in this, but soon, I won't be able to make these decisions for you." And she pulled him into a hug.

"You have a kind heart, Jack, and a brave soul. I'm proud of you."

* * *

  
"B-06," Agent Fowler called softly from the hall. The femme's eyes onlined. "May I speak with your pilot? It's important." She slowly uncurled from her balled up position on the floor to reveal the woman nestled in her arms, with her head resting on her inner elbow and her knees against her stomach. She gave a curt nod.  
"What is it?" Darby asked, not showing any intention of moving; Fowler peered up at the giant robot and gave a mental shrug: it wouldn't hurt to have her listen in, rather the opposite really, considering what he was about to impart.

"We've been combing through the list of people that could possibly know your identity as 06 and could have tipped Silas off: the outpost staff, the blue and gold support crews, all your contacts from your old place of residence, and so on. We have a few suspects. And I'd like you to take a look at _this_ one in particular." He stood on tiptoe to hand her an envelope.  
"'Justin Shyrod'. Records state he was a researcher for a small subcontractor company specialized in energon refinement, worked there about a year before turning in his resignation citing health issues. Considering how much radiation he would've been exposed to, that's not implausible. The _strange_ thing--" he gestured at her to turn the page "is that facial recognition software matched him with a completely _different_ man, 'Chris Baker', who just so happened to be a doctor at your ER. He has also since quit, only a couple days before the attack two years ago. And that _is_ fishy. He look familiar to you?"

The pilot stared at the picture, tapping a finger on her chin.  
"Yes." She frowned. "But we were on different schedules, I think, I didn't see him around often. The only thing I remember is that I had the impression he was somewhat vain."  
The Agent raised an eyebrow. She smiled sheepishly.  
"He never had a hair out of place. I thought it an odd trait for someone up to his elbows in blood and dirt a good part of the time, in the trauma center. That's why it stuck with me. Nothing else, though."

He sighed.   
"Well, that's to be expected. We'll look into both of them and keep you and Prime posted."   
She smiled again, more warmly this time.  
"Thank you, Agent." He rubbed the back of his neck.  
"Aaah, it's no problem. Just doing my job." As he turned to leave, she flipped back to the first page.  
"Reports of theft from the refinery?"   
"Oh, that. It was included in the file, but it's likely unrelated. No evidence."   
  
She hummed thoughtfully, fully immersed in the documents, so he bid the two of them goodbye and exited the bay. 

* * *

Miko was excited. The TSA had finally cleared the stuff she'd left in the dorm for warp transport and it had all arrived in that morning's shipment. She'd been unpacking ever since getting back from school and she'd just found the guitar, which _hadn't_ been damaged in the delivery (she'd checked, very, _very_ thoroughly), and was itching to play something: she hadn't much had the chance to back in Japan since her homeroom teacher hadn't been favourable to 'infernal noise-making contraptions'.   
It was only after rummaging in the box for half an hour looking for the mono connector that she remembered that it had come with the previous load and was probably still in 03's bay somewhere, and tossed her head back with a groan. Oh boy.

  
The girl tiptoed over to his room and peeked around the corner; the mech was there, in his dock, and the instant she put one foot over the threshold he jerked awake and his ears (they were probably meant to resemble _horns_ , but the way they moved really put her in mind of oddly positioned and proportioned _cat ears_ ) pinned all the way back. She raised both hands in a gesture of innocence.  
"Sorry. Forgot something in the house."

He was still angry about being poked and prodded to take on a pilot, but apparently Miko not being one of the cadets was enough to make him acquiesce and let her come in without a fuss; the ears returned to a more neutral position. Good thing they _did_ move, 'cause otherwise it would be impossible to read his mood: his winglets weren't expressive like 06's or 07's and three quarters of his face-- assuming he _had_ a face-- was covered by his battle-mask literally every minute of every day. 

So, where had she left the stupid thing? She scurried up the stairs to the top floor and slumped with relief when she saw that it hadn't been taken over by trainees yet: it would've felt like snooping.   
And there it was, on the coffee table. _Score_. She did a silly little jig and punched the sky, and blushed when she realized that 03 was looking at her through the window with a sort of bemused air. And were his ears actually tilted _up_ a bit? Whoa. First time ever.  
  
She stepped out closing the door behind her and was about to leave when Kevin appeared in the doorway.  
"Wheeljack, General Bryce is here. He wants us out on the field with your cadre in ten, without Smokescreen's in the way-- Miko? What are you doing there?"

Their good mood instantly evaporated. She dangled the cable.  
"Had to get this... you're leaving _again_? How long will you be away?"  
"Whole day, likely," he admitted. Her face fell.  
"But... we were supposed to hang out this evening! Watch that pro-wrestling show you told me about?" He sagged.  
"Sorry, Miko. The General's adamant. Perhaps we'll finish up early enough that we can still catch it?" He didn't sound _at all_ certain. Besides, he was usually exhausted when he got back from missions, it would be wrong to pressure him into staying up with her; he'd just conk out on the couch anyway.

She side-eyed the mech beside her. The pissed-off cat look was back.  
"It's ok... tomorrow, then?"  
"Tomorrow," he confirmed, relieved. Unless something _else_ came up, of course.   
He left towards his own bay, and the girl hung from the staircase railing dejectedly.  
  


And she got an idea.  
  


She turned towards 03.  
"Hey. Can I come with?" He blinked.   
"To see the tryouts," she clarified. "Could you, like, hide me somewhere so that 04 doesn't notice? Please?"  
He studied her for a long moment; then he gave an indifferent shake, scooped her off the landing (at this point she was getting used to being manhandled by giant robots) and tucked her under his chin. She slid down until she hit the ledge where his collarbone would be, if he were human; it was low enough that Wheeljack wouldn't brain her with his jaw if he ducked his head, but high enough that she could still peek over the edge of his chest armour. She settled down and grinned.  
"Thanks!"  
  
  


He transformed out in the corridor, in a whirlwind of jagged metallic bits that made her fear for her limbs, and she ended up somewhere dark and _very_ cramped indeed. Wherever it was, it had to be close to his reactor since she could hear its hum even over the sound of the (many) people talking around them, and, perhaps because of its proximity, she swore she could sense an accompanying buzz of irritation.

"The bridge is set, General." That was Combs. "At what time should we be expecting your return?"  
She moved around a bit, trying to find a position that wouldn't kill her back in the long run. 03 obligingly cracked open the... whatever-it-was to let some fresh air in and she spied a forest of legs.  
"...Did you stash me in your _trunk_?" She whispered in the direction of his engine. She missed the next couple of exchanges as the background simmering anger was briefly eclipsed by amusement. He did. He totally did.

"...not happy with its recalcitrant attitude," someone was saying. "At least Unit 07 knows how to take orders, and _it's_ not one of the heavy hitters."  
"B-03 has always been problematic." 00 again. "But it seems to have gotten worse. Spending ten years on a Decepticon warship didn't do him any favours."  
"Hmph. Giant robots with _personality_." A fist banged down right on top of her, and she jumped. Wheeljack's anger spiked. "I wish there was a way to _smother_ it, it would save us a whole lot of trouble." And she decided, right then and there, that whoever this person was she hated his guts.   
00 hummed noncommittally. There was a thoughtful pause.  
  


"It's gotten worse, you say? Perhaps a trip to St. Hilary is in order. That should fix it."  
  


Kevin balked. Miko felt 03 go _cold_.  
"What, _no_ \--"  
"That is _entirely_ unnecessary," Combs replied hastily. "Tampering with a unit's coding once it's set is dangerous, nevermind that no one is still sure how their character forms in the first place. It could lead to a complete reset, or worse."  
The interlocutor made a disgusted sound.  
"A reset doesn't sound too bad, considering what we've got to work with. Very well. Your progress, or _lack_ thereof, is noted. I'll be reviewing the recordings. Good day."  
The girl craned her neck trying to get a glimpse of the General before he left, without any luck. A vehicle nearby started its engine; moments later 03's did too, and they were moving forward. She felt the familiar wash of static as they crossed through the groundbridge, and they emerged somewhere overcast with rough, bumpy terrain.  
"Wheeljack?" She whispered. She couldn't feel him at all, now.   
  


He didn't answer.

  
  
  


After a good half-hour drive, the mech retransformed and Miko chanced a peek over his breastplate. The landscape looked very similar to the one surrounding the base, dry and sandy with clumps of sparse grass, but instead of mesas it had deep, circular craters that didn't look entirely natural. She wondered what could have made them.

"All right you lot, shut your cock holsters and _listen up_." Kevin had gotten out of Bulkhead, and was standing in front of the wannabe pilots with his feet firmly planted far apart and his hands on his hips. Despite not being the one adressed, the girl unconsciously straightened her spine.  
  
"On behalf of the Prime, General Bryce and the United Nations, welcome to Area 19 of the Nevada National Security Site. This is where you will be doing most of your training. Do you understand?"  
"Yes, 04," they answered.  
  
"You are here because you were hand-picked from of wide selection of people. Because you _chose_ to be here. Yesterday, you went and watched some pretty fireworks with 07. Thought that was fun, didn't you?" He paused. They chorused another affirmation.  
"Tough. You're here to be a frontliner, not a spy. You won't be sneaking behind enemy lines, or sniping enemies far away from the battle: you'll be smack in the middle of it. You'll get your hands dirty. You'll get your ass handed to you every damn day, but you'll give as good as you get. You'll be the ones to draw fire away from your teammates, because _you can take it_. You'll be the _distraction_. Understood?"  
There came another scattered round of replies; some of the men glanced over at the gray mech, possibly seeing the thick welding seams on his chest (00 had never gotten around to buffing them out) in new light. Miko knew _she_ was.  
  
"I want you to form three lines. There's fifteen of you, so that's five for each line. See that crater over there?" He pointed at the nearest hole as the others hurried to get into position. "That's a minefield. There are smoke bombs buried one foot beneath the ground. Now, if you look to your right--" they did "--you'll see three cars. You will all take turns driving them across this crater, three at a time. If a bomb goes off, you're all dead. Doesn't matter who's fault it was, you will have all failed the mission." 

He continued on explaining the hows and whys of the excercise and the girl hung on to every word. Right now, 04 was a completely different person than the one she had come to know: this new side of him scared her, a little, but it was to keep the trainees alive once they got onto a _real_ battlefield. She got that.

  
  
  


Unbeknownst to them, a small mechanical bird circled high above their heads overseeing their activities. Three hundred miles away, aboard the Nemesis, A-02 displayed the transmitted video to the Decepticon high command.  
  
**"So,"** Megatron began silkily, **"not only did you fail to extract any _useful_ information from the Wrecker, you let him _escape_ as well? Is there anything _else_ of import you've neglected to inform me of?"**  
**"Apologies, my liege,"** Starscream replied with a nervous laugh. **"It must've... slipped my mind."**  
**"And of course, we have the other."** Soundwave switched to show the recording of a training session in Antarctica, where a gray race-car was doing stunts on the ice. **"Thanks to your incompetence, we'll soon have _two_ more Autobots to worry about."**  
And then he smirked. He walked up to the control panel and toggled the keypad; the world map on the screen zoomed out until a signal came into view, still far from Earth but drawing closer.

**"We might have to call in some reinforcements ourselves."**

The jet squinted at the signature and sneered.  
**"Master, please reconsider: the twins are loyal to you, certainly, but they are far more loyal to each other. Such a conflict of interest would be a hindrance to the cause, not an asset."**  
**"Do not speak to me of _loyalty_ , A-04,"** A-01 growled. **"I may have shown you mercy for your treasonous activities, but they have _not_ been forgotten. And should your prediction reveal to be true..."**  
  


**"...We shall simply force on them a _change of priorities_."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, half of this story only happens because Miko gets bored/curious/angry and Things happen as consequence. For good or for ill.  
> I did this in record time, so I'm a bit burnt out now. Next chapter will def take a while to arrive.
> 
> (I'm just laughing at how much [this](https://tfwiki.net/wiki/File:ChainOfCommand_stowaway.jpg) screenshot from the show works well for this chapter XD)


	22. Chapter 22

  
The Nemesis hailed the the Sky Claw as it neared Earth's mesosphere; it activated its reverse-thrusters and pulled up to dock on the much larger Decepticon flagship. The plug-doors opened.  
Two mechs, almost identical save for their colour scheme, stepped out and simultaneously bowed their heads with a fist pressed to their chest.  
  
**"Lord Megatron."**  
**"At ease, Skyquake, Dreadwing. It is a surprise to find you on this planet, after your decision to part from the main fleet years ago, but a pleasant one: loyalty such as yours is a rare commodity."**  
**"Ours runs deep, and true,"** Dreadwing, the darker one, replied. **"Yet, it is not loyalty alone that brought us here."** He paused. Skyquake picked up where he left off.  
**"We do not regret the many years spent under your command, but we tire of fighting. Space is vast, dark and empty; after all these years, we were compelled to return to see the home we gave up our humanity for."**  
  
A-01 raised an eyebrow.  
**"Do you not wish to punish the people that took that home away from us? That _exiled_ us, for no fault of our own?"**  
**"We do,"** Dreadwing said. **"But, over time, we found that we would perhaps prefer peace, even for the price of letting such scum live. But should you need our assistance, lord Megatron, we would be prepared to serve."**  
The warmech's brow smoothed.  
**"I have no need for warriors who fight half-heartedly. If a peaceful life is what you desire, you have my blessing."**  
  
They bowed again.  
**"You have our deepest gratitude, Lord Megatron. We shall maintain contact."**  
And they left.  
  


As soon as their ship vanished in the clouds, Starscream sneered.  
**"Well, that's not a surprise. 07 and 08 have always been soft, honour-bound fools. _Peace_. Hah."**  
**"And yet, such devotion can easily be forged into a deadly weapon,"** 01 said softly, **"given the right _incentive_. Soundwave."**  
The 'Con moved just enough to visibly acknowledge him.  
**"Access the old database with the information on the last two As to ever be created."**  
A-02's face-screen lit up with their stats; as Megatron read through them, his mouth stretched into a grin.  
  
**" _Brothers_. One four years younger than the other. Interesting, how they ended up as twins."**  
  
**"It is an ugly truth that, in war, some sacrifices have to be made,"** he said, tapping the younger brother's picture.  
  
  


**"And I believe I just found ours."**

* * *

  
The training session ended up lasting three hours instead of the scheduled five (and good thing it did, 'cause Miko had been getting a bit hungry and a lot thirsty-- she hadn't put a lot of planning behind her outing), because two hours and thirty minutes in Wheeljack got so impatient watching the cadets explode themselves that he _fired_ at them; the shots had gone wide, of course, (and they probably made the simulation a lot more realistic) but had still defeated the purpose of the excercise since they'd started a chain reaction that had set half the remaining bombs off. The crater had smoked like an active caldera.

'Impatience' wasn't quite the right word to describe what was roiling under 03's plating; it approximated his surface tension well enough, but near the end the mech had become... distracted(?), or perhaps Miko had just gotten better at sensing him, allowing her to sink a bit beneath that.

And immediately wish she hadn't, because it felt like dipping her toes in warm, black _sludge_. She'd recoiled and tried to edge away from his reactor, but the metal of his chest was slippery and it sloped down at a steep angle, so she'd flattened herself against his outer layer of armour instead and tried to ignore the feeling of wading through filthy engine oil. The knives that coalesced when the trainees approached to drive him back to base were almost a comfort by comparison.   
Was something... _wrong_ with him? And if there was, why hadn't the 00s fixed it?

When they returned, 03 immediately stormed off to his bay ignoring everyone and everything, removed her from her perch, dropped her on the landing like a hot potato and _growled_ at her.   
"Thanks," she mumbled, since it would be rude to not say anything. Six metal spurs peeked out from his shoulders and his eyes narrowed. Taking the hint, she left him to stew in peace. 

  
  
  


Jack was now back in the base 24/7. Since MECH knew where they lived, they'd returned indefinitely while the government agents waded through the paperwork needed for their relocation. Although, they wouldn't be going far: living in Jasper was way too convenient for its proximity to the outpost, so they'd likely just move to a house on the other side of town and remain under Arcee's constant watchful eye; which meant that when 06 was needed on missions and he wasn't at school (or in some other crowded area), Jack would have to, per force, go to OW1 to be supervised by someone else. Which in turn meant that avoiding 07 had gotten a lot more difficult. (He took to spending long hours in the main hangar, as it was the room farthest from his bay.)

It also meant that he was present for B-10's reactivation.   
Engineers had reconstructed his stolen component in record time and his assembly _in loco_ had been completed the previous day; that morning, the 00s had locked themselves in his room with a team of technicians decked out in hazmat suits and had spent the next six hours performing all the necessary valving, system and semi-scram checks.   
In the meantime, the other mechs had been uncharacteristically... _active_. It was rare to see one up and about without his or her pilot, yet now they all roamed the base in various states of unrest and the static electricity they were generating was enough to make his skin prickle with goosebumps every time one came within thirty feet of him. Pacing. They were _pacing_.  
"I wish Raf was here," Miko whispered in his ear, fascinated. "They must be saying all _kinds_ of stuff."

The 10 bay doors parted and 00 poked his head out. June, Pax and Richardson looked up, and the mechs stiffened.  
**"He's ready,"** he announced. **"We've begun filling the Drift. You've got twenty minutes to gather 'round and get comfortable."**  
The pilots seemed to take that as the indication to get up and file towards the bay; the teens followed in their wake, rubbing their arms as they subconsciously responded to the nervous excitement in the air.  
  
B-10 was in his usual slumped position over the launch platform, but his chest no longer had a giant hole in its center and several tubes were feeding into it from the top. Combs and Ratchet had unsynched, and the old pilot was keeping an eye on the gauge as he scanned his hands and shoes for lingering traces of radioactive particles while the 'Bot went to the washracks to get decontaminated; both seemed just as tense, if not more. _Why?_  
He voiced his enquiry. To his surprise, Combs actually answered rather than pretending to not hear.

"B-10's core has been set to function at the lowest possible rate, around 1.5%. That's lower than for mechs in _stasis lock:_ just enough to keep it from stalling out, with external system support. We were lucky that most of his safety devices had already been installed when he first activated, but he didn't have the Drift to absorb radiation; it's usually for the pilot, but the engineers also had to work in its vicinity. We're not sure how this will impact the procedure."  
"Couldn't you have just shut it off entirely?" He asked, with the feeling that this was a stupid question.

The orange-and-white pilot frowned.   
"We could've," he said slowly. "But I chose not to: their reactor is what makes them alive."  
"Like a heart," Miko said, nodding sagely. 00 glanced at the gauge again, sighed, and faced them.   
  
"No, not like a heart. It's... if one of the mechs were to sustain extensive damage to their core, we could fix it. It might be difficult and inefficient, but not impossible: they're _machines_ , no part of them is unrepairable, or irreplaceable. But." He took his glasses off and began to clean them.  
"It wouldn't be the same. We could use the same materials, follow the same blueprints, manufacturing processes, tools, locations, boundary values-- _anything_. It still wouldn't be the same, even if their memory banks remained intact. If their reactor shuts off, they're gone. You could restart it, certainly. But you'd get... someone else." _Robots that can die._

"So in a way, it's more like their _soul_. Or a tangible reflection of it." He shoved his glasses back up his nose and turned towards B-10.   
"And we're good to go. Ratchet!"  
The mech strode past them and disconnected the tubes. 

"Rods out in ten. Nine. Eight--" Pax ever-so-slightly leaned forward; Jack could swear his eyes went _blue_ for an instant "--seven. Six--" every single 'Bot in the base was crowded around the doorway, sensors spread and staring intently "--three. Two. One."

Something clunked and fizzled with electricity, and the neon lights overhead were drowned out by the blinding flash that seeped through the seams in B-10's chest; the rods re-engaged with a clang, and the light died down.

They waited, with bated breath.  
B-10's eyes lit, and his doorwings fluttered in dismay when his clumsy attempt to right himself caused him instead to slide further down the dock and get stuck between it and the launch tower. 00 caught him under an arm and hoisted him upright; 10's wings perked in recognition and he emitted a sound resembling an AOL dial-up tone.  
Jeff sagged against the railing. Truthfully, he wouldn't have minded if he _hadn't_ remembered the events of his first traumatic spontaneous onlining, but it was good that his cache hadn't suffered from A-01's intrusion. _Readings._  
**_Stable. No outside interference. Induction?_** He glanced at Orion. The man didn't _smile_ , exactly, but his eyes crinkled at the edges as he inclined his head.  
_Go for it._  
  
Optimus stepped inside relaxing the tight rein on his field and let his distinctive serene, regal tranquillity bleed into the room and wash over their new member, whose eyes went as round and wide as his wheels. Ratchet nudged him. He tried to stay as still as he could (the doorwings seemed to have a mind of their own) while 01 circled around and inspected him.   
  
One by one, the other units came in and introduced themselves, letting him familiarize with their fields; 03 and 07 were met with the same curious beeps he'd greeted Ratchet with. It was pretty cute.  
"All right, all right," Jeff said, and began herding everyone towards the door "everybody out. B-10's actuators need to be calibrated and I _won't_ be held accountable if he kicks someone by accident, you hear?"

  
  
  


In that moment, in a country an ocean away, two mechs linked by a bond unlike any other parted ways. Now that they were on Earth, peace was on the horizon; it had been over a decade since they'd seen their home planet, and each wanted to see its sights on his own.

If kept well maintained, their reactors would stay lit for decades, if not centuries: they had all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even if you hadn't seen TFP you'd know that one of the twins is gonna die a horrible death. That's just how it goes.  
> Found it a bit funny that Megatron was tapping Soundwave's face there for a bit, and everyone treats it as normal.
> 
> If you (like me) are too young to know what dial-up internet sounds like, think of a fax machine. Or listen to this: [AOL dial-up tone](https://youtu.be/D1UY7eDRXrs).
> 
> The mechs so far:
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02:???  
> B-03: Wheeljack  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05:???  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07: Smokescreen  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09: Ultra Magnus  
> B-10: Bumblebee
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: Soundwave  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: Starscream  
> A-05: Makeshift  
> A-06: Airachnid  
> A-07: Dreadwing  
> A-08: Skyquake  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	23. Chapter 23

"So there they are, on the cat, _at afterburner_ , with an open groundbridge straight ahead and the spacebridge fired up ready to go, and the WSO just... climbs out of his cockpit and _leaves_." Miko laughed. 

It was Kevin's turn on monitor duty; Jack had fled to the lounge platform to bury his nose in a book right after getting back from school. He worried about him, sometimes: the boy didn't seem to do anything except _work_ (unless reading about space counted as a hobby? It was a while since he'd been in school, but he didn't recall the Horsehead Nebula being on the curriculum). Yeah, pot, kettle and all that, but regular kids shouldn't have to push themselves so hard.  
Miko, on the other hand, had made a beeline towards the console, kicked her backpack under it and had ostensibly begun watching the screens along with him, pigtails bobbing to the rhythm of whatever obscure Bulgarian shriek metal piece had been blasting through her earbuds. She'd looked bored (and he'd perhaps felt a bit guilty, not having seen his supposed ward for the past week) so he'd started telling her some (heavily edited) accounts of his experiences in the first planetary war.  
  
" _Why_?"  
He shrugged.  
"Beats me. Everyone on deck hears 04 cuss a blue streak after him, the boys up front look at each other and pretend everything's fine-- of course that's when 02 calls, wondering why no one's showed up yet. I swear, he took one look and just. Hung up."  
She giggled again, then assumed a pensive air.

" _Starscream_ let humans into his cockpit?"  
"Well, he wasn't really Starscream way back then," he said gruffly, turning to the screens. He'd only known A-04's 'pilot' by sight, and hadn't known the others at all; the picture he recalled was that of a nerdy, lanky fellow who constantly seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but... kind. A far cry from the being he'd come to be. He shook his head.  
Miko hummed thoughtfully, fiddling with her phone. The more time passed, the farther she slumped down the chair; he bet she'd have a leg up on the armrest if she thought she could get away with it.

_Fifteen-or-so years before on a different planet, in the battle-class walking dragline excavator, comms tuned, waiting for the signal to move forward to level the land, a man with that same lazy demeanour smirked over at him playing with a detonator--_

The parrallel struck him so hard he was sent reeling. That _voice_. He'd been off balance ever since that damned episode on the Nemesis: he'd never thought he would hear that voice again, not after 05 had outed himself as the rat he was. And yet, there it lived, right across the corridor.  
He'd taken on the task of searching for the new 03 because it was his _duty_ , he'd known the first better than anyone else, he knew what to _look_ for. But he dreaded the day he saw those colours again, because then he'd have to live with his pale imitation hanging around, weighing on his shoulders every time he opened his mouth.  
  
Miko was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He waved her off.  
"Just remembering somebody."  
Her eyes sparkled and she sat up intently.  
"One of your old sapper team pals?" She was back in full Kevin-storytime-mode.  
He didn't feel like talking about James.

"Nah," he lied. "Nothing interesting."

She pouted and flopped down, staring at the screens dully. An alarm chimed; she perked right back up.  
"'Cons? Is it 'Cons?"  
It was an emergency beacon from an old Decepticon mine. Or, well, a mine that had been used to provide fuel to the A-series in the beginning, which wasn't quite the same thing.   
It had been stripped pretty much clean, so there was no reason for any mech to be down there unless a drone had gone rogue and was trying to fend for itself. More likely, the thing had gone off by accident after years of neglect.  
Either way, it was a code green: low threat level, and isolated. He entered the specifics in the log and sent a wordless summons to Bulk, who briefed Optimus, who would in turn forward the info to Pax, wherever he was.  
  
"Eh. Maybe. Might be just equipment malfuntion."  
  
04 drove into the hangar and parked himself on the runway. Kevin got in and sent a thumbs-up towards the bridge technicians, who returned the gesture; the portal flared to life.  
He glanced back, just to make sure a certain pigtailed girl hadn't snuck aboard _again_ \-- he might be paranoid, but he wasn't entirely confident his mech would stop her: Bulkhead had taken an... odd sort of liking to Miko. Odd, because Gen 2 bots didn't usually form personal bonds with any human besides their pilot and perhaps others they'd synchronized with, like Smokey with his trainees. And he was _fairly_ (fairly) sure the two of them had never synched before.

A stray thought crossed his mind, and once outside the wormhole he braked to a stop.  
"Bulkhead," he said seriously, frowning at the steering wheel. He wasn't quite sure how to phrase this. "You're not... in the market for potential replacements, are you? Because as much as I like you, Miko's _off limits_."  
B-04 sent him slightly alarmed confusion. He sighed, and tried again.  
"I know I'm getting a bit old to be out fighting 'Cons every day, and it _would_ be better to find you a new pilot before I kick the bucket. But not her. She's not even fifteen, for God's sake." Not that that meant anything to the mechs, as they had ample evidence of; so, he'd have to be _very_ clear. "Look somewhere else."  
  
The confusion gave way to panicked denial, and Bulkhead's Drift dimension went from endless dark catacombs to a tiny chapel, light and comforting and enclosed, with no doors to the outside. Seemed like he _wasn't_ , then. But...  
  
"You'll have to get a new pilot sooner or later, you know," he mumbled, staring ahead.   
**_Denial_.**  
"I'll do my best, Bulk." He put him into gear and drove towards their destination.  
  
"I'll do my best."

  
  


Many side-tunnels departed from the main mineshaft, but Kevin decided against investigating them given their miner-drone size: bumping up the risk tier of a mission just 'cause they'd gotten stuck wasn't on his to-do list, thankyouverymuch. The alarm system wasn't in there anyway. 

He heard the sound of something large shuffling in the tunnel just around the corner.   
The 04s readied a blaster and fell into partial synch. Large. Too large to be just a drone. Insecticon, maybe? They tried comming the base, but it couldn't connect through the thick layer of rock that separated them from the outside; they crept alongside the tunnel then sprang, falling into fighting stance with their weapon levelled at the enemy--

 **"-- _08_?"** He asked, shock stopping him in his tracks and bringing them to full merge.  
The green-and-white 'Con whirled around, eyes flashing burnt orange; he unholstered the huge plasma machine-gun on his back and fired a path into the wall; he only just managed to take cover behind the corner. Dust trickled down from cracks overhead and 04 grit his teeth.  
**"08, _stop_! This whole place's gonna come down around our ears!"**  
**"Why should I listen to the _vermin_ that led me into a trap? I didn't believe even _you_ would stoop so low. Have you no honour?" **_What?_  
  
The other's violent assault didn't leave him time to dwell on that strange choice of words: he returned fire at half-power, trying to aim down instead of where the beams could potentially ricochet towards the ceiling. But when Skyquake started using heat-seeking missiles-- a ghost from a long-faded memory smiled, sharp and terrifying, and whispered _"permission to use a grenade in an enclosed space, sir?"_ \-- he didn't have much of a choice: his Scatter Blasters left red-hot spots on the wall that diverted the rockets and created a heat-screen, much like flares, and the following eruptions impeded any visual. 04 aimed at where 08 had been and fired; the shot didn't connect, striking stone instead.  
  
There _had_ to have been an energon vein under the crust even if his sensors hadn't caught it, because the instant the blast hit it _detonated_ , sending shrapnel everywhere and setting more explosions deeper underground. The rocks buckled, and he could only hug the wall before the ceiling caved in.   
Right on top of A-08.   
  
  


A link snapped, shrivelled and faded into nothingness. Countries away, an F-35 fell out of the sky as if struck by lightning, and crash-landed. No soul was present to see it happen.   
  
  


Minutes after not sensing any realignments in the geological structure, Kevin got up from their crouch and turned on their headlights (which were on their chest in root mode, but that was neither here nor there), illuminating the small alcove they were now trapped in.  
"How far down are we?" He asked his mech, shining the light on the pile of stones above. It didn't look stable: if they wanted to dig themselves out, they would have to be very, _very_ careful.  
**Forty meters. Estimating, fifty tons of loose limestone.** _Shit_. And still no signal. They would have to wait for someone at the base to notice their absence. And hope he wouldn't run out of air in the meantime, because the Drift hadn't been hyper-oxygenated prior to the mission.   
  
**"Skyquake?"** He called, wondering if the 'Con had somehow survived having a small mountain dropped on him. Unsurprisingly, he received no answer.

He settled them back down for the long wait.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Static roused him from his stupor.  
_**"Bulkhead, this is B-01. Do you copy?"**_  
He onlined his eyes; at some point his two sides had merged again, and he'd turned his lights off to conserve power. Not that there was much to see anyway.  
  
**"I copy, Boss."** The Prime had to be be right above him, to be able to reach through with high frequency comms. Was the cave-in visible from the surface?  
_**"Do not make any sudden movements: B-07 is triangulating your position. Once we lock on, we shall send a groundbridge. Are you injured?"**_  
**"Nah, I'm fine. But A-08's down here too, and I don't think he got as lucky."** There was a pause.  
_**"Understood. The portal will open in your close vicinity."**_  
He sent an affirmation down the line and grabbed onto the nearest boulder; the painfully bright rift breached the wall shunting rocks aside, and sent the whole stack out of balance.  
He dove through it just in time to escape Skyquake's fate. A red arm appeared at the exit, grabbed him by the roof-rack and yanked him away from the avalanche the portal vomited out at his heels before whoever was at the controls managed to close it; he/they sagged against the Prime, beyond giving a shit about propriety at the moment. 01 didn't let go.  
  
**"What happened?"**  
**"An old emergency beacon went off. Arrived here, and _A-08_ showed up."** Kevin grimaced. First Airachnid, and now the twins. None of them had shown the intention to ally themselves with Megatron (yet), but that didn't make them any less dangerous. In fact, having their own separate agendas would only make them _more_ unpredictable.  
**"I didn't want to fight him underground, but he gave me no choice. I think I ignited some residual energon by accident and the roof came down in the explosion."  
**  
  


A ways away, Smokescreen angled his sensory panels towards the newly formed sinkhole.  
**"But there's no radiation,"** he muttered.  
  


Soundwave finished recording and silently took off towards the Nemesis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me like you wouldn't believe.  
> A lot of what happens in Prime will also happen here, albeit out of order, and there will be things that won't happen and a bunch of extra things that _do_. Like a giant collage.
> 
> Basically, this follows canon if and when I feel like it.


	24. Chapter 24

Night fell. Optimus, Bulkhead and Smokescreen were long gone by the time the jet arrived; he transformed, fell into the pit and blasted and clawed at the earth until his fingertips were blunt and glowing the same dull red as his eyes. Then he stopped, knelt with his forehead pressing against his knuckles, palms flat against the earth, and _ached_. (And cried, but only on the inside, because they'd been stripped of such useless human capabilities; his wings shook with the closest approximation he could manage).  
Then he got up, out of the grave he'd dug himself in, and sent a signal into the sky.  
The Decepticon warship lying in wait was deaf to its call: only several hours later did it rise up and ghost over the mine to collect the only one left.  
  
  


  
**"Dreadwing,"** A-01 announced with a grand welcoming sweep of the arm. " **I must admit, I was not expecting to see you return so soon, much less alone. Is there a problem?"**  
The dark mech stood there in silence for a long moment, clenching and unclenching his fists.

 **"Yes,"** came the quiet reply. **"My brother is dead."**  
Megatron let his arm fall in shock.  
**"What? Are you certain? How did you learn of his passing?"**  
07's head tilted up and his eyes became visible, a hint of fire flickering in their otherwise uniform colour.  
**"We had a link, we could sense each other even over a great distance. Our minds were joined: ever since our transfer, I was never truly alone. Until now. I felt him die in this exact location, in a battle brimmed with deceit. _What happened_."**

Megatron glanced over at Soundwave. The Con's screen crackled to life with his namesake; several voices were strung together to form an answer.  
_"The area was shut down by--" "-- **Autobots!** " "--the news reports, at four thirty-five yesterday--" "--huge explosion that destroyed the--" "-- mine."_ His monitor showed grainy footage of the eruption, and, fast-forwarding several hours later, the Bs arriving and pulling their teammate out. A vision from Skyquake's final moments flashed before him and matched with the green brawler.  
**"A trap,"** Dreadwing said flatly. **"My twin died in an _ambush_."**  
  


He crashed down to the floor on one knee.  
**"Lord Megatron,"** he spat, **"this I swear. As my reactor still burns, every mech, pilot and human under Optimus Prime's command shall feel my wrath. I shall not rest until I have _slaughtered them all_."**  
  
  


* * *

  
  
**"This is even better than expected!"** Starscream crowed. **"Instead of in a tragic accident, 07 believes his dear brother perished at the hands of Autobots, and in an _unfair fight_ no less! We won't even have to _wait_ to point him at a target!"**  
**"Assuming he _listens_ ,"** 01 said darkly. **"This was not an outcome I had considered when we planted the charges. I have no more use for a berserking soldier than a peaceable one: if he doesn't follow my lead, he could easily end up impaled on Optimus Prime's blade."**  
**"So?"** 04 shrugged. **"If he dies, he dies. Might even rid us of a couple Bs in the meantime. Like my big lug of a counterpart."** He scrunched his face. **"Pity he wasn't entombed as well."**  
**"It would be a _waste_ ,"** Megatron snarled. **"There was a _reason_ I chose Dreadwing: he isn't a hot-headed _imbecile_! Or so I thought."** He turned and headed down the galley, his Second and Third at his heels.

 **"What is done is done. We shall observe the results. In the meantime--"** they entered a small room, low in the ship's belly. In its center was a pallet. And, laying on the pallet, were Skyquake's crushed remains.  
The room was cast in the lurid purple glow of the crate of Dark Energon near its feet.  
**"...We have some experimenting to do."**

**"Soundwave, open a new file: Reactor Reanimation and Overclocking."**  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Since B-10 had been officially brought online, it became a regular occurence to see the other units troop down the corridor to pay him a visit (the mech was dock bound until he finished forming the neural pathways to do basic movements with no lag), usually late in the evening or in the morning when less people were about; therefore, even _if_ someone had spied Smokescreen traipsing towards 10's bay, they wouldn't have given it a second thought. As it happened, no one did, because the infiltrator had applied his ninja skills to take the long way around, phasing through 09's empty room and the repair bay to stay out of sight. 

As for the _why_ he was headed there at such an odd hour, the newest 'Bot had come out of recharge flaring faint, wavering _**rejection** _in a manner reminiscent of failed-bonding dysphoria; and Smokescreen knew just how to fix it: he flashed his indicators to get his attention, pulled him out of his dock and sent him a data packet.  
  
Forgetting his disappointment, B-10 voiced a curious trill. 07 poked the tip of his doorwing encouragingly.  
On the other side of the base, 03 opened one eye and sent them another; had he been human, he would've been grinning like a loon. The cyan sliver of light disappeared as the mech resumed his nightly defrag, and didn't twitch a servo as the twosome snuck back through the maintenance, 09, 07 and 05 bays, popped into his and sank into the rock to give 01's a wide berth since they weren't certain he'd look the other way. In the main hangar, Smokescreen inputted a destination into the groundbridge, flipped the switch and pushed 10 through; once the other had crossed, he scrubbed the log of any evidence of their activities and went back to his room. It was five AM.

  
A man stepped out of his house to go to work; his wife followed him soon after, leaving their three kids alone. The taillights of her car had only just been swallowed by the night when a green flash lit the block and was immediately snuffed out. 

Raf woke to the sound of his older sister knocking impatiently against the door; he squinted, confirmed that it was still disgustingly early and burrowed back in his bed, tugging the covers over his head.  
"G'way, Pilar," he said with his face smooshed into the mattress, "'s not my turn w' Izzy."  
The knocking continued, persistent and regular. He groaned, steeled his mind and body, pushed the covers off and sat up, feeling around the nightstand for his glasses. He peered at the clock: scratch disgustingly early, it was three hours before classes started! Why call him _now_?   
Unearthly shadows played on the wall. He turned around.

And _very carefully_ did not scream, but only because, in the split second between opening his mouth and releasing the breath caught in his throat, he had recognized those huge, telescopic eyes framed in the window, and his brain had caught up just in time to clench his teeth and turn the startled yell into an _eeernmph_. B-10's irises spun and he tilted his head in silent enquiry. 

" _Why_ ," Raf wheezed. His heart was jackrabbiting in his chest.  
_**See you.** _He froze.  
"You can _talk_?"  
_**Transponder installed, active, paired. 40 languages in database. ?Receiving?** _The last word was laced with intense interest, which he envisioned as a thousand minuscule grappling hooks digging into his metaphorical self.   
"Yeah," he replied. "I got hit with energon and it mutated my brain. I could hear Ratchet and Optimus too."  
_**Cool**_. The boy almost laughed at that, hearing such tween-y lingo enunciated in a clipped, robotic manner. He propped himself against the windowsill.

"I thought you guys were supposed to be top secret, though. Did I miss an appointment? Or--" He leaned out to search for eventual Decepticons skulking in the dark, even if 10's calm demeanour dissuaded the notion that he was on guard duty. "Why're you here?"  
_**???? Elaborate. ?Secret?** He didn't know?_  
"Yeah. You guys usually turn into... trucks and stuff, when you go out. You're--" he paused, thinking how he could put it kindly "--an important government creation, I think? That only a few people are supposed to know about."  
_**?Unit B-10, violated protocol?** _He didn't sound worried, just thoughtful, so Raf saw no harm in nodding.  
"Yeah. You can hide in the garage, if you want. Unless you can transform?" He did have wheels and lights and other car-parts, after all.

 _ **Units B-03 and B-07 do not care much for protocol**_ , 10 mused, offering him a palm; the boy, remembering his uncoordinated fits, eyed the appendage hesitantly before climbing out the window; he got a little nervous when the mech wobbled, but then he took hold of the roof for balance and the hooks dug a little deeper as he skimmed through his thoughts for directions. Which was weird, but also _awesome_. _**I shall rearrange my priority tree.**_

" _No_...! ...I mean, perhaps you should ask 00 to confirm that first?" he squeaked, and the 'Bot set him down to crawl on all fours into the garage. Thank god both cars were gone, 'cause otherwise there was no way he would've fit even packed tight as he was. He patted the ground, the light fixture and the stack of folded lawn chairs before examining his own knee spurs, fascinated. His field was cycling through states at such a rapid rate Raf couldn't keep up with it.

"Um, why _are_ you here?"  
_**Blind-vivid-ghost-in-perennial-change**_ **made** _ **me**_ , he said unhelpfully; Raf got the feeling that he was only halfways listening: he was running his index finger up his knee as if he'd never seen it before.  
"Who?" He wasn't graced with a reply, the mech now entirely invested in-- of all things-- the tarp covering their collection of (deflated) floaties in the corner, and Raf had the dawning sensation that B-10 was, probably, a tad scatterbrained: he was running, in parallel, several FEM analises on Izzy's gator float, the tarp, the watering can and himself, all while browsing Ikea and Wikipedia and who knows what else, for reasons known only to him and God.

"B-10?" He said, a little louder.   
_**?Alligator: why?**_  
"Izzy liked it," he said tiredly, wondering whether he could leave him to his own devices for a bit to call Dr. Combs, or even go back to bed. And he _still_ didn't know why he had a giant robot in his garage.  
**_????_ **And then all of the thought trains buzzing through the air screeched to a halt and 10 went completely still.

 _ **!Proximity alert!** _An upstairs door slammed. The boy immediately went into overdrive.  
" _Hide_! You have to hide _now_ , before she comes in! Transform!"  
_**????????!!!!**_  
"What do you mean, _you don't know_ \--" They heard steps coming down the stairs, and 10, feeding off his panic and his new directive, looked around wildly, grabbed the tarp and threw it over his head as the door swung open.  
  
It would've been a great idea had it not been the size of a tablecloth.

 _ **I am invisible,** _the mech stated, with 100% confidence. The hem hung slightly below his nasal ridge.  
"No," Raf replied. "No, you're really not."  
" _Dios mio_ ," Pilar said faintly, and dropped the crowbar. B-10 peeked out from under the tarp. The gator floatie sagged sideways, sadly, with a hiss. Raf felt entirely inappropriate giggles bubbling up in his chest.  
  


"¿Qué tal, manita? Meet my Computer Club associate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back! Yes, this chapter's all over the place. No, I'm not going to fix it. I've been staring at it far too long as it is.
> 
> Bee's utter incapability of hiding is taken from the Bumblebee movie. You know the scene I'm talking about.  
> Raf's younger sister being named Izzy is stolen from [ADabOfBlessings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADabOfBlessings/pseuds/ADabOfBlessings)' story 'The Little Things In Life', which I would recommend to anyone for the sheer amounts of fluff and hurt/comfort.


	25. Chapter 25

The garage got very _loud_.  
  


(Fifteen Wikipedia articles, lots of nervous fidgeting and one hasty explanation later:)  
"Santo cielo," Pilar breathed, leaning heavily against the doorjamb. "Are we in danger?"  
"No--" Raf started, then paused. _Were_ they?  
"B-10," he turned to the mech, scrunching his nose at how awkwardly it had come out; the other units had _names_ , it didn't feel right to call him by his serial number as if he was some unfeeling object. "Are any enemies nearby?"  
  
There was a long, drawn-out pause as 10 glanced at his older sister (shyly?) which nearly drove her into a tizzy.   
_**No.**_  
"We're good."   
"But you--" the girl wringed her hands, looking up the stairs and jerking back as if B-10 was going to shoot her while her head was turned "--you _can't_ stay here. What if... those evil robots follow you? Your compañeros already got really close, I _heard_ you fighting that time-- mamá y papá y tíos weren't around and when you didn't come back, I was worried you'd gotten caught in-- in some _turf war_ , and I saw those burns and I thought that maybe... maybe--" she looked like she was going to hyperventilate, and Raf didn't know what to do. Calm a 25-foot robot, sure, no problem, but his level-headed, dependable sister? Never did he feel more like hiding somewhere dark and tuning out the world (which happened fairly regularly).

Luckily, she drew a deep breath and composed herself without him needing to do anything, and nodded at them; Raf hesitantly took his eyes off her and back to the B-unit. He was about to ask him why he was there, _again_ , except he could sense his mind beginning to wander now that the humans' mysterious flurry of activity had died down; it dawned on him that the incomprehension was likely mutual: he wasn't human, just because he understood spoken language now didn't mean he had the right frame of reference to make sense of their actions.  
_**Unit Pilar, B-00,** _he said, so absentmindedly it was more like a stray thought than an intent to communicate. _**?04? Pillar. ?Sustain? Base. Strength. Designation, appropriate.**_  
  
"You'll need to leave while it's still dark out. Right now." She said firmly.  
The doorwings sank.  
"Wait, something isn't wrong at the outpost, is it? Is that why they sent you here?" B-10 wilted further and shook his head with a hint of embarassment.  
_**NO. Bad downtime flux. B-00 warned me about many things, cleavers seeds, they stuck. Wanted to see you. B-07 worried, bored. Result: [ ].**_  
  
He only got half of that, but it was enough.  
"You came by to visit?" _Aw_. "I was going to the base... er... this afternoon, actually. I have to every week, at least for a while. We could've met then, it's probably a lot safer..."  
The mech pulled down the tarp in an attempt to cover as much of himself as possible, tightening his plating self-consciously.  
_**I didn't know.** _He was definitely embarassed now.   
"I mean, it's ok. But you should go home now. How about I take you to my usual pick-up point? Then you can call 00 and he'll bridge you back."

"Wait," Pilar interrupted. "I can't let you out by youself at night! What would mamá say?"  
They shuddered. When it came to misbehaving, their mother had eyes in the back of _their_ head; nevertheless undeterred, Raf gestured at the giant robot stuffed full of weaponry in an unspoken 'who's gonna mug _this_ guy?'.  
"I'll be with him!"  
"Not on the way back. I'll accompany you--" her expression went dismayed "--no, I can't leave Izzy alone either--"  
  
  
"It's all right! I'll come too!"

They all slowly pivoted to face the fourth figure standing in the doorway, arms akimbo, with a 100-watt grin, curly twintails and a princess personality to match. 

Pilar facepalmed.

  
  


Five minutes and all four were sneaking out the back like a band of cartoon burglars.   
Izzy was positively vibrating with excitement: Pilar had a firm grip on her jacket in case she vibrated herself off of 10's hand; the mech kept getting distracted by every little thing and Raf had to tap his chest to keep him on track. He made soft buzzing noises in reply.

"You sound like a little bumblebee," Izzy giggled. B-10 interrupted his vocalizations to look at her oddly.  
_**?I'm an alligator?** _Where had this fascination with alligators come from?  
"He says he's an alligator?" Raf relayed with the same bafflement, wondering if he was missing some key element in his field: the others had been quite straightforward in their databursts, perhaps he'd been misinterpreting him the entire time?  
Izzy pondered that, then shook her head.  
"No, you're a bumblebee," she stated with utmost conviction. The 'Bot's doorwings drooped again.  
_**?Unit Izzy does not like me?** ...What?_  
"Of course I do!" She replied in a primly offended way, once Raf had translated. "You're cute! For a _robot_ anyway. You've got the coolest eyes and fairy wings and you're almost as tall as our _house_."   
The doorwings came back up. Silence stretched; Raf could feel his processor working at borderline overload.

_**Bombus Terrestris is considered cute by 80% of the human population sampled, is equipped with a stinger, can sense electric fields and some species fight off much larger predators through teamwork and resilience. Designation: accepted.** _

Adding to the list of Things the Esquivels Probably Shouldn't Have Done: naming the giant robot. He hoped that, at least, this was how the process was supposed to go: Dr. Combs had said they'd been the ones to name 01, right?

He was about to ask when the mech stiffened; Izzy stopped humming the 'Do You Like Waffles?' song and frowned at him.

_**Hostile signal, approaching fast.** _

Raf felt ice creeping up his spine.  
" _What_?"  
"What," Pilar asked, squinting at them.  
"He says... we might be in danger now."  
_**Contacting the outpost. Changing shifts. Might take some time.**_

An airplane passed overhead, really close to the ground. B-10-- _Bumblebee_ flinched and covered the three with his free forearm.  
"I thought you said they were cars," Pilar whispered. Raf shrugged and the mech crouched-- rather uselessly, since there wasn't much he could do to make himself less visible from above.   
  
  


The jet came around for another pass, unfolded into a humanoid shape and landed with a heavy thump.

It was... Bumblebee was by no means _small_ , but this new robot _towered_ over him: it was more than twice his height. And it didn't take a genius to realize it didn't have friendly intentions: aside from its red eyes, dark paint, surly face and the missile launchers on its wings, there was the massive plasma cannon aimed straight at them. And the savage bloodthirst twisting its expression into an animalistic snarl.  
**"Autobot. You shall pay for the sins of your people."**

In response, Bumblebee _growled_ ; it sounded so different from his usual chirps and whirrs that it took Raf a second to realize where the guttural noises were coming from, and it was disconcerting: seeing him hunched in a defensive posture, face drawn and eerily still was just plain _wrong_ somehow, even knowing that he'd been built for this sort of thing.

Izzy whimpered. As if that had been a signal, the 'Bot snapped out of his reverie and took off down the nearest alley like a coiled spring. As he ran, stumbling over uneven pavement, Raf heard him trying and failing to transform; at the exit, where the lane joined onto a wider road, he stopped, pried open his chestplates manually and tilted the three of them into his padded antechamber.  
**_Run. Hold on. Safe. ?Safe?_ Safe. **  
  
He didn't know if Pilar and Izzy could feel him now, being so close to his reactor, but his reassurances felt more like pleading.

The panels shut again, plunging them into darkness.  
  
______________  
  


For the first time in his short life, B-10 could think clearly.

 _"Too much RAM,"_ B-00's human had said, sheathed in bitter spines, _"too many co-processors for high-res imaging and nothing to do with them. I'm sorry. Your combat code will shut down a large part of your GPGPU when you engage in battle and it should allow you more focus, but..."_  
He didn't care, really. He couldn't picture how it would be to not visualize the intricate math in everything-- order, perfectly balanced with entropy-- or see every cut and scrape on B-01's armour from the other end of the hall, or attempt to predict the brownian motion of the steam in the washracks. But he was very, very grateful that his creators had had the foresight to moderate it when needed.

He knew than in a direct fight he stood no chance against the Decepticon: being outclassed in size, weight, firepower and general mobility, the logic unit returned a probability of deactivation at 98.6 with a .05 margin of error. 

Unacceptable. Not while three tiny sparks were huddled near his own. 

So instead of confronting him, he fled. Such strategy wasn't contraindicated in his kernel protocols.  
The protocols, however, did place the survival of the town populace higher that the survival of those he was carrying in his chest, which created so much heat between his logic and cortex circuits he'd had to shed half of the doorwing feed to counter the lag. He followed the route highlighted by his strat-tac module, the most direct path away from the suburbs--  
\--The asphalt in front of him exploded. _**Proximity bomb**_. The dark jetformer jumped down a small ravine and landed on his other side; his field was slavering jaws and rot and pikes.  
**"Running away? I shouldn't have expected anything better. _Coward_."**

This Decepticon seemed to only desire his death, not the humans'. A change of strategy was in order.  
"BEE!" Raf hollered, pounding on the inside of his chassis. "Let us out!"  
"Just put us down somewhere!" Pilar added. "We'll be all right!"  
Yes, that would work. Then he'd only have to get far enough...  
  
He jumped backwards into the inferno, somehow avoiding the barrage of shots; black tar bubbled and stuck to his feet, eating through the outer layer of rubber.   
On the other side of the fire curtain-- 47°C, hot but not fatal to humans-- he forced his chest open again, bent down and let them tumble out. The smallest made a shrill sound.  
_**Run**_ , he told the one who could understand him, just as his enemy reappeared; he flared his armour in a challenge and backed away. I'm goading you. Chase me, fight me.  
  


No variables had changed in the past few minutes: the chance of sustaining mortal wounds in the encounter was near-1. Yet, he was calm: he was following his prime directive to the best of his ability, and his spark warmed with the feeling. 

It was almost enough to make him purr in the face of death.  
  
_________________  
  


Raf tripped, fell and scraped his knee, and when he got up it was to move in the opposite direction.  
"Rafael! ¿Qué te pasa?" Pilar hissed at him, wide eyed.  
"He's sacrificing himself! That other robot is going to _kill_ him!"  
"And what will you do? _Stop_ him?! _Rafael_!" She swiped at him but only managed to catch a couple strands of hair before he slipped away.   
"You don't get it! He can't _die_ , manita, he's a week old! You _saw_ him! No es _justo_!"   
" _What_ \--!" He was already bounding away. " _Mierda_. Isabel. Stay here, don't move. Understand? Good. I'll be back." And she followed her brother down the rocky slope with leaping strides to catch up. Izzy danced from foot to foot nervously before following at a safe distance instead, out of sight. 

The mechs were easy to track: they just had to follow the trail of destruction. Hearing the sounds get near, they hopped off the path into the bushes, crept closer under their cover and peeked through the leaves.  
**"Pathetic,"** the navy blue 'Con was saying. **"You couldn't defeat my brother in an honourable fight, so you led him into a trap. And all we wanted was to live in peace, on our home planet,"** it said resentfully. **"I should have known that to be a fool's dream."**  
It unsheathed a longsword from its back and pointed it at Bumblebee's chest.  
Bumblebee, who was sprawled in an untidy mess of limbs and scrap metal, eyes flickering, looking only half alive.   
  
The Esquivel siblings saw red.  
"Leave him alone, _hijo de puta_!" Pilar screamed, and Raf stood up and threw the heaviest rock he could find within reach at it; the Decepticon started and its blade sank into the ground-- barely scraping Bee's throat-- instead of his reactor, and whirled around with wide red eyes.  
**"What-- _children_?"** B-10's irises spiralled and he made a creaky, distressed noise; the boy launched himself from their hiding place and scrambled up B-10's chassis to place himself between them, sides heaving, only to get shoved out of the way the teen who took his place.  
  
"Leave. Him. Alone. He's just a _baby_ , you son of a bitch. He's got nothing to do with your war."  
The Decepticon reared back and scowled; Raf could sense its field returning from its state of shock.  
**"You know nothing, human. His kind isn't like yours. Now get out of the way before I spear you through as well."**  
Pilar bared her teeth and didn't move. Behind her, Raf lay flat on his stomach to cover as much surface as he could.  
  
The 'Con's faceplate made a complicated series of motions.  
**"You won't always have children around to use as a shield, Autobot,"** it growled, then sheathed his blade and backed away. **"And you. You are very, _very_ fortunate that it is I you're standing against, because I very much doubt Starscream would show you the same mercy. Don't _ever_ do this again if you want to live."**  
And with that final warning, he transformed and blasted off.  
  
  


  
Bumblebee warbled, rolled to his side and curled around them in a slow, pained way. Pilar fell down with a thump.  
" _Puta_ ," she said feelingly, and patted Bee's arm when he started shaking. Raf just stared off into the middle distance, and kept doing so until Izzy's head popped out of the undergrowth; then he swayed on his feet and crashed. The youngest Esquivel yelped.

"We're alive," Pilar said wearily, and giggled. Raf followed suit and Izzy was dragged into it too and soon they were all rolling on the ground getting sand in their hair. 

  
They stayed like that until a groundbridge appeared, backlit by pink streaks of cloud.  
It was the loveliest sunrise any of them had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Broke 50K words! OwO  
> Gratuitous spanish abounds in this chapter. Luckily for me, it's similar enough to italian that I can... _sort of_ understand it?
> 
> Also, the Esquivel kids really were lucky that it was Dreadwing. All the other 'Cons wouldn't have thought twice about murdering children. Obviously.
> 
> So! Bumblebee finally has his name and the Esquivel sisters are in on the secret. Next chapter _won't_ deal with the fallout because I'm leaving that to your imagination. Lel.  
> (Well ok, that's not exactly true, but it'll mostly be about other stuff.)
> 
> The mechs so far: (reposting this for Bee again)
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02:???  
> B-03: Wheeljack  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05:???  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07: Smokescreen  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09: Ultra Magnus  
> B-10: Bumblebee
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: Soundwave  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: Starscream  
> A-05: Makeshift  
> A-06: Airachnid  
> A-07: Dreadwing  
> A-08: Skyquake  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	26. Chapter 26

"You know, when I asked if you were planning on converting this outpost into an after-school club, I was being sarcastic," Agent Fowler said, rubbing his eyes; he looked sorely in need of a cup of coffee.  
Jeff wasn't faring much better: he felt like he'd aged ten years in the time between receiving the news of B-10's escapade and the present. Of the three of them, Orion was the only one who appeared entirely awake and put together.

Upon arrival, the Esquivels had been immediately whisked away to get checked for injuries, and were now standing in a row doing passable impressions of miserable, melty, mint-green snowmen (Darby having sprayed them with anti-radiation foam-- B-10 had bled on them, and _no one_ wanted a repeat of what had happened to Rafael). At least, the elder two looked miserable; the youngest, bless her heart, seemed to be having the time of her life and was chattering away with Nakadai while the teen not-so-subtly poked at the stuff with fascinated revulsion.  
  
"You named him _B_? They're _all_ Bs! Couldn't you have come up with something more original?" The little girl waved her arms sending gobs of shaving cream-like substance everywhere. Jack cringed and ducked as a piece sailed over his head.  
"No, _Bee_! Like bumblebee!"   
"But that's so... _cutesy_. They fight aliens and giant evil robots, they're supposed to sound _fierce_! Badass! Like hornet. Or _yellowjacket_. I vote to change his name to Yellowjacket."  
"That's a _bad guy_ 's name!"  
Ah, yes. Somewhere in there, the mech had also gained a designation. 'Bumblebee'. To be honest, it was probably better than anything 95% of the outpost staff could have come up with, himself included. The only good thing to have come out from this mess.

"The question is, do we let their family in on the truth?" 01 murmured. Perhaps Jeff had been wrong: under close scrutiny, one could find traces of exhaustion in his leader, in the minute slump of his back and the dark rings under his eyes that weren't entirely fruit of the cold bright lights of the medbay.  
"The Esquivels live together with their extended family," Fowler reported. "That's _ten_ people on average living under one roof, and others visit fairly often. I suggest you give the matter careful consideration before informing one of them, because that _one_ is sure to become a dozen."  
"As if the cat wasn't out of the bag already," Jeff snorted. "Unless you believe an eight year-old capable of holding her tongue around her parents?"  
The Agent rolled his eyes.  
"Of course not. But who's gonna listen to an eight year-old telling tales of mutant giant robots? If the eldest can keep quiet, we've got nothing to worry about. On that front, anyway. I've got--" he groaned, palming his face. 

"--The Pentagon's pushing to start the selection process for B-10. Prime, 00, _please_ tell me you've made progress with those other two. Has B-03 shown compatibility with any of the candidates?"   
They didn't reply. Fowler rubbed his eyes again.  
"What's the hold-up? We're not in a lull anymore, Double-O, we need more pilots _now_!"  
"Blest if I know," Jeff muttered. "Bumblebee's is going to have a hard time too. Not because he's picky, mind you, relatively speaking. It's just... with how he turned out, I'm afraid the crossing-over'll be hellish." Fowler swore.  
"Not what I needed to hear, 00. I'll confirm A-08's deactivation. That should get them off your tail for a bit..." 

  
  
  


Some time later, after they'd been cleared to wash off the stupid sticky radiation-absorbing foam (by standing under the shower, clothes and all), Raf found himself wrapped up in a towel and a blanket in front of Bee's bay without recollection of how he got there. He was in his dock, recharging (which basically meant he was asleep), with a bunch of sealant patches on his limbs looking like the refractory tiles of a space shuttle.  
He was sorry he'd missed his official onlining, although the Prime probably wouldn't have let him come even if he'd thought to ask; who would go through the trouble of bridging some kid into a military base just because he wanted to see how baby robots were born? 

He heard a soft thump behind him and glanced back, expecting to see his sisters or one of the pilots, only to get the second (or third, or fourth) heart attack of the day when instead he found a B-unit not five yards away. Seriously, it should be _illegal_ for a being that big to be that quiet; he hadn't even sensed it approach!

He craned his neck to get a view of its chest, searching for a number to identify it, but this was one of the gray, unpainted ones. Unpiloted, Jack had called them. Like Bumblebee.  
"Er... do you need something?" He asked, a bit apprehensively: despite being nearly the same shade as 10's, its eyes seemed... colder, somehow. And, even if he focused on it, he couldn't sense anything whatsoever: it felt as featureless as a white plaster wall.  
(Dr. Combs had been offended when he'd called Ratchet 'it'. Should he be calling them all 'he'? Except for Ms. Darby's, B-06, that looked a lot more like a woman? Or did it depend on the pilot? Or both?)

He (Raf was just going to go with that for now) was still pinning him with that icy stare.  
_**Who did it.**_  
The boy shuddered; his comm was even deader than the B-units' voices when they spoke aloud. He looked at Bee.  
"It was... he turned into a jet, with four big wings on his back." He thought about it some. "Dark blue and gold, and he had dragon feet, and he sort of... looked like a samurai?" A bit like this one, actually. 

He felt his field ripple with... something, and fade again. Then he tossed his horned head and walked out of the room; Raf let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.   
(That 'Bot gave him the heebie jeebies.)

  
(Later on an Agent sat them down, gave them a simple cover story-- thieves broke in their house-- and his number and sent them on their way. Thankfully, nothing else worth mentioning happened. The only evidence that B-10 had visited their house lay in the shallow grooves in the drainpipe above his window, and only he ever noticed them.)  
  


* * *

  
That night, Kevin didn't go to bed; he dozed against his mech instead, waiting.

It was nearing the witching hour when he heard the sound of doors sliding open across the hall, and he nodded at Bulkhead; they weren't going into battle, but he would still need his partner's help.   
The green mech picked him up; Kevin sat, cross legged, on his shoulder, closed his eyes and let himself sink into the dark dimension (always present in a corner of his mind) and merge... but not completely. He wanted to be in his own head for this. Just enough to be able to feel and imbue radio with raw emotion, without needing an intermediary that would lose things in translation.

Their doors opened and they found themselves face-to-face with Wheeljack, frozen with one foot in the air and a 'deer in the headlights' look. Their heart sank.  
"Ja-- Wheeljack," they said softly, not wanting to wake anyone up or be overheard. 03 put his foot back down, slowly; his finial flicked: he was listening.  
"You can't go on like this. Smokescreen got the idea from you, didn't he. I know it was him, it _had_ to be."  
They got neither a denial nor a confirmation.  
"Wheeljack, _why_. I don't mean..." Damnit, this is why they were synched. Why were words so _hard_?  
  
"It's not them, is it? You've already decided you'll never take another pilot, no matter who it is." He blinked.  
"Wheeljack, you're gonna get yourself killed." A shrug. **" _Jackie_."** He/they-- fuck, _they_ \-- clenched their teeth before their tone got too loud. "Why?"  
_**Alone's less complicated.**_  
  
Kevin's body breathed in. Out. They felt disgusted over their relief that he'd chosen to answer through radio, not speech; they knew they would've lost their nerve if he had.  
"Your directive."  
_**Directive, failed. ?Point?**_  
"That... that isn't... doesn't..."   
The other turned away, bored with their conversation. Through the Drift, from that small window where their bubbles overlapped, 04 caught a glimpse of his construct; it was indistinct, but it almost looked like it was _starving_.

"Wheeljack, I can't stay quiet about this anymore. I have an obbligation to you, but I have an even greater obbligation to my team. To humanity as a whole. You may want to... fight alone till the end, but I cant let you do that." And there still was no hostility in his field.   
"So, the next time I catch you escaping at night, I'll sound the alarm."

03 nodded, taking it as the fair warning it was, and continued down the corridor. The shift was changing, as it did every three hours: if timed right, no one would see the brief flash of the groundbridge. And no one did.   
  


* * *

  
Purple energy crackled as A-08's core went critical, and the dead 'Con's eyes opened. The two drone attendants backed away, arms raised in defense, as it struggled against the stasis cuffs tying it to the steel slab acting as an examination table.  
  
**"It's alive!"** Starscream shouted gleefully.  
**"So it would appear"** 01 hummed, and raised an eyebrow as it broke its restraints, surged upright, flung itself towards the nearest eradicon and proceeded to tear it to bits in a fit of mindless violence.  
**"The Dark-En seems to have fried the majority of its neural net,"** 04 muttered, wrinkling his nose, and edged away from the warmech when he threw his head back and laughed.  
**"Yes. _Yes_! This is the power I have long since searched for! By harnessing it, we shall have the means to launch a crippling attack on our enemies and end this conflict _once and for all_."  
**  
**"But _Master_ \--"** the flyer's voice rose an octave as the reanimated corpse fixed its stare on them (having finished with the poor, hapless cannon fodder) and he ducked behind Megatron's larger frame **"--don't you see what happened to its _brain_?"**  
**"Nonsense, Starscream,"** he replied. **"You might recall Skyquake being crushed under the weight of a mountain. But do not worry: _you_ will not be the one using this." **  
The former A-unit roared and sprang towards them, and Starscream _eep_ ed; 01 casually blocked and redirected its attack towards the floor, smirking when he felt the force behind it.  
  
**"Soundwave, open a groundbridge."** A portal opened beside him and Megatron spun, grabbed the zombie's wing and bodily threw it through.

  
  
  


  
When morning dawned on the base the following day, Wheeljack hadn't returned.   
And they had a code orange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a part of the last chapter, but it was getting too long (again). That's why I updated so quickly.
> 
> So, an interesting thing that I (and many others) have noticed about Wheeljack is how... _unfriendly_ he looks. It's not a Wrecker thing, 'cause Bulkhead looks perfectly huggable and Ultra Magnus (and even Breakdown, a _Decepticon_ ) look block-y but not, like, _sharp-edged_ the way he does. Arcee's the pointiest of them all, sure, but that's somewhat tempered by the delicate features of her face. 
> 
> So yeah, 03 would look pretty scary to Raf. Especially compared to Bumblebee. Who manages to look soft despite being made of metal. (Somehow.)


	27. Chapter 27

_A matchstick. That's what he reminded him of, lounging against the gatepost like he owned the place: any subtlety his dark waterproof suit could've provided was rendered null and void by his hair-- intensely red and jelled into a mohawk-- ice-blue eyes, a smattering of freckles and at least five piercings._

_"...You think I'm a creepo, don't you," he stated after a lot of accusatory staring._  
 _"You're a twenty-something guy in a one-piece liner loitering outside a school."_  
 _He laughed._  
 _"Fair enough... hehehehe, wait 'till 08 hears about_ this _one. I like you, kid!" He fished out an ID, waved it in his face and flashed him a winning smile._

_"Don't worry, Prince Chary, I'm just your regular ol' plumber here to fix a gas leak."_   
  
  


* * *

  
  


Jack was rudely awoken by the wail of the base-wide alarm calling all units to action; June strode past tying her hair in a ponytail, already fully clothed-- she had to have slept in her pilot suit-- and uttered a clipped "code orange" before slamming the door shut behind her.

Last time there had been a code orange, the Decepticons had landed on Earth and nearly succeded in bringing their entire army down on their heads. That set a bad precedent.

  
The alarms were still ringing by the time he'd changed out of his pajamas and crept up to the control room. June and Arcee were nowhere to be seen; they must've already left.   
An operator on the tower was signaling in semaphore with lighted wands to the people and vehicles below: a team came through and drove off and around the groundbridge runway to come up behind the first, which in the meantime had finished loading weapons, restraining devices, radiation/heat-resistant shields and fire extinguishers and bridged out in close formation once the portal reopened; then the next group moved up the ramp in preparation as yet another entered and got out of their way, and so on.   
Up above, the screens were locked onto their destination: Ankara, Turkey. 

He winced. A _capital_. The whistles cut off.  
 _"TAF has mobilized. Prepare to receive the armoured division--"_  
 _"Africa-cluster groundbridge is online! Reroute from Outpost Omega-1."_ A smaller screen showed a line of tanks driving through a deserted street. Jesus Lord Allmighty.  
 _"Europe-cluster groundbridge is online. Reroute from Outpost Omega-1, no interference-collision. Matching--"_  
 _"Ground team to all units: immediate area has been evacuated and cordoned off."_  
 ** _"B-06, take point."_**  
Smokescreen appeared in the hangar, stepped over the group of people on stand-by at the end of the platform and transformed; two of his cadets, acting as pilot and co-pilot, opened his doors and entered and they took off as soon as the bridge lit up again, with the remainders hot on their tail in a jeep.  
 _ **"Remember, you are in a densely populated area: your objective is to keep spills to a minimum."**_  
 _ **"Copy that."**_  
 _ **"B-06 to all units: I have a visual."**_

Her feed came up alongside the Anatolian peninsula map.  
"What the heck is that," Miko whispered into his ear. He nearly leapt out of his skin.  
"Don't _do_ that," he hissed back. He peered at the monitor. "I think it's a... an A-unit?" Most of its paint had flaked off, in a way that made it look almost unpiloted, but he thought he could make out a number.   
"Looks kinda pattied," the girl muttered, "and... mangy. Or zombie-ish? Oh my gosh, Jack, _undead robots_ , can you _imagine_?"   
She sounded way too thrilled at the possibility. 

_**"It's Dark-En."** _

_"Containment teams approaching!"_  
 ** _"Use the stronger shields: that stuff's nasty."_**  
 ** _"06, with me. Intercept and divert. 04, 07, guard the perimeter. Don't let it stray too far if it heads your way."_**  
The last group in the hangar left and the bridge began recharging its capacitors. The video was interrupted once Arcee engaged the A-unit, but sound remained on; they all heard the cracks and grunts of the battling units as they exchaged blows, and then a loud bang sounded and audio shut down as well.

As soon as it did, a man ran in gesticulating frantically.  
"B-03's gone!"

He could feel his grip slipping. He cursed and dug his nails into the writhing mass, grimacing: it felt too much like sticking his arm in a snake pit, and his brain was hardwired to expect being bitten no matter what reason dictated.   
07 was, of course, being difficult: it had taken him thirty-- _thirty_ \-- entire seconds to synch, because when he'd entered the Drift the mech had slid out of reach, twisting and bowing like his brother's cat under his petting hand. It was baffling, and irritating: he'd always been flighty, but recently it had gotten frankly ridiculous. He'd do everything himself if the mech wasn't so incredibly, unhelpfully _distracting_ ; it almost made him miss the days when he'd stuck to them like a Xenomorph facehugger, as creepy as that had been.

"Need to switch out?" Leo called from above, strapped in shotgun. After what had happened with Anjo, they'd been ordered to operate in teams of two (since that's how many seats 07 had) so that if one fell out of synch on a mission the second could step in immediately; and this time the others were on hand _just in case_.

(Privately, he thought they'd all be better off just wiping B-07's banks.) 

"Not yet." He snagged a passing extension, and it felt secure enough that he could redirect his attention to what was happening outside; the pilots would go ballistic if they found out just how little he was focusing on the battle, but that was hardly _his_ fault.  
He blinked. The Prime and 06 were taking turns diving in and out, nipping at the 'Con's legs and wings to keep it distracted and lure it into the lead-lined box they'd set up. Once it was in, they could nuke it without worrying about Dark-En getting everywhere.   
The former A-08 screeched and backhanded 06 into 01, making them both stumble. _Focus_.  
Smokescreen tried to slither away again. 

"Would you just... stop _moving_ \--" he told the tentacle monstrosity through gritted teeth. Did he _want_ to get them blasted to smithereens? Or maybe he was sympathizing with the 'Con. They were both mechs, after all.

The bundle of snake tails slipped from his grasp. The 'Con fixed purple balefire eyes on them.  
"Fuck. Leo."  
"On it," the other man said, and he got a glimpse of him grappling with 07 as he swam up. The mech had a harder time keeping track of them both when they switched, he was easier to corner; he knew the other had gotten a good hold when he felt foreign unhappiness brush against him like some slimy deep-sea creature.  
"You and me both, buddy," he quipped sarcastically as he broke surface, and he unfolded a seat from his antechamber, fastened the belt-- poised to dive back in the second 07 wiggled free-- and braced himself as they clashed.

They couldn't go on like this. He hoped that whatever the higher ups were planning would work because, sooner or later, something had to give.  
  
  


* * *

  
There had been a disturbance during his search several nights prior, when he'd managed to get under the repeater standing tall in the middle of the Nevadan desert, thirty miles away from base. The Nemesis was in constant motion and A-02 was always careful to stay out of commercial airlines' flight paths, because there weren't many no-fly zones on Earth and even fewer ones not under military surveillance, and the warship's cloaking was good, but it wasn't invisible. He'd sensed the blip from Northern Europe. Eyes-and-ears-on-every-wall was not sloppy: it wasn't the Nemesis. It wasn't A-06's either, now little more than a blackened skeleton in Alaska.   
Five vessels remained unaccounted for in the official registry, but he knew the location of one (and that wasn't it), the second was unlikely and the third impossible. Too big.  
That left two; _but reports stated that one of them had been poisoned and shredded through a spacebridge_.

That left one.  
And he was right.

Wheeljack crept around the abandoned Decepticon ship warily, threading magnetic-sensor subroutines through his winglets instead of the usual targeting software. His had been a bomb technician, once: he could recognize the feel of enabled explosives.  
It took him a while to get to the cockpit, having to painstakingly carve and melt a hole through its roof (where the walls were thinnest and less shielded), but once inside it was easy to access the information he was searching for.

Active mines. Missions. And A-07's commlink.  
  


That last one was particularly interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Let's see if anybody can figure out what the 'unaccounted vessels' are :).~~  
>    
> Shortish chapter, but a heck of a lot happens in it so eeeeeeh? I dunno why it came out so short, honest. I thought it would be longer.


	28. Chapter 28

Somewhere in Michigan, in a windowless bunker, the Doctor dragged a cart full of energon canisters across the room. The newest batch had cleared to a bright, acid green, didn't pre-ignite, didn't clot nearly as bad as the two before and was even somewhat stable. Progress.  
He stopped by the cherry red car in the corner, pretending to stretch while checking the lights on the security cams.

"Will you need more fuel soon?" He mumbled, peering through tinted windows at the dash. No audio feed in the room: he'd checked.  
**"What I _need_ is to get the hell out of Dodge,"** the car hissed back. **"Or, you know, one drive? Race around the block? A trip to the _mall_? Do you _know_ what all this sitting around on my tuchus is doing to my _waistline_?"**  
"That's physically impossible," he said tiredly (this being an age-old argument). The mech let out a muffled sort of scream.  
**"I've been stuck in this cave for _ten days_ next to the body of a B-unit and That Bastard _literally_ four yards beneath me. I've changed my mind: the dump was awesome. Let's go back to the dump, please."**  
"You're talking like it was my choice to leave. "  
**"--If I have to stay in this room with Mr. Peeping Tom and Lamebrain over there _one more_ night, I will sabotage every single thing around and pin the blame on _you_."**  
"You'll get fucking nailed."  
**" _You think that'll stop me_?"**

Figures the fruit of his labour would be the most infuriating thing in the universe. He stomped a circle around the car, muttering unflattering things about his model (a lemon), his finish (tacky), his processor (a glitchfest) and his makers (morons, the lot of them, himself included), before gazing up at the rafters in a plea for serenity.  
"...All right! Fine!" He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I can loop the cam feed for you a random hour per night. But if I get caught I'll tell on _you_ , and you'd better _hope_ Silas decides to use you for spare parts and not--" he jerked his head pointedly at the mountainous, lusterless figure in the centre of the room.

The mech turned solemn.  
**"If Silas tries to kill you, I'll try to take you,"** he said.   
His tone had a thin edge that felt almost like a papercut, and the man's hair stood on end. It was in moments like this he remembered that, despite his diva personality and the colourful vocabulary he'd picked up over the years (mostly thanks to him), he had killed a man, and didn't regret it. He might do it again. Hell, he might even _enjoy_ it: his morals were skewed by _design_ , for fuck's sake.  
(Last he'd heard before getting kicked off the team, all following prototypes were to be programmed to make that impossible. Wonder why.)

And yet, coming from him, such a statement was pratically a declaration of fondness.   
He traced the white tribal decals decorating his door, then went to complete his task.  
  


**"That's B-05, isn't it?"** The mech asked suddenly as he rolled a container to the lift and up to the catwalk at Big Blue's chest-height.  
"Yeah. How did you find out?"  
**"It told me."**  
  


He furrowed his brow. Poor fuck. Whatever consciousness he'd regained or hadn't been completely erased before wouldn't survive this.   
  
  


* * *

  
"Optimus, we have a situation," Jeff reported through gritted teeth.   
**_"_ Another _one?"_ **06 said.  
_**"A-02 and 04 were circling above us for a while. They might double back and launch an attack on civilian shelters. Is it urgent?"** _Damn, they _had_ to be planning something big if Soundwave had left his battlestation.  
"It could be."  
04 snorted.  
_**"Look, Combs, we've got 'Cons sitting over a city and half an army to corral. If people aren't dying on your end, we ain't moving."**_  
"Your pigheaded rust-for-brains _jackass_ went AWOL," he snarled into the transmitter.

There was a pregnant pause.  
_**"...Shit."**_  
_**"Do you know his location."**_  
"I know where his exit point was." The log hadn't been wiped _this_ time; and knowing the time of escape and the surrounding roads, he could estimate the area in which he could be found. An area that was growing wider as they spoke.  
_**"All right, bridge me through, I'll--"**_  
_**"No,"** _01 interrupted. _**"Given your history, I believe it would be best that you avoid involving yourself further. I shall go."**_

  
  
  
Optimus came in and out once, then rerouted through the European station since the Outpost's capacitors were getting low. The night crew left with the foreign country stragglers; the regular crew filed in. The kids left for school with Kevin and Bulkhead. June switched places with Jeff at the monitors, and the Head Engineer left to sort items in the repair bay with Ratchet.   
Noon came and went. A smarmy agent in a bespoke suit arrived via helicopter and poked his nose everywhere. Smokescreen tried his best to become one with the walls without actually Phase Shifting. Arcee and Bumblebee snoozed.  
At a quarter past two, a ping alerted 06 at the console and she activated the portal again.  
  
She heard them before she saw them.   
It wasn't _screeching_ , the noise was too mechanical for that, more like an unholy cross between grinding gears and nails on a chalkboard. And then the Prime pulled free of the swirling light, fighting to keep his hold on the incensed runaway, and she slammed the portal shut as he broke free.  
  
**"06, call Arcee and take cover."** His tone brooked no hesitance: she sent an alarm down her link, jumped into the big air duct behind the mainframe banks and peered over the edge.  
Wheeljack quieted and backed into the bridgewell, hunched-over with sharp armour plates rising; 01 followed him right down the middle of the runway. Then as quick as a viper he struck, gripping one of 03's finials _hard_ ; the gray mech froze for the fraction of a second necessary for the Prime to reach around him and pin both arms to his sides, and was dragged out.  
"Do we need stasis cuffs?" June asked neutrally.  
**"Perhaps."**

Now that she had the time to study them, they both looked rather worse for wear. Unlike the 'no harming humans' protocol, the B-units had no rule against harming each other; they just _didn't_ : they weren't coded for violence and weren't _stupid_ , they knew infighting was detrimental to their objective. That, usually, was enough to halt any dissention amongst the ranks before it got to that point.

However, there was a reason B-01 was the leader, aside from being the first combatant B-unit and the calmest in face of conflict: _he could keep the others in line_.  
The blue pilot watched as the truckformer parted his chestplates slightly, set Orion on the platform and held up a hand in the universal 'stay out of it' gesture when he took a hesitant step forward (he remembered the damage 03 had done to Makeshift, singlehandedly); he resituated his grip on Wheeljack and haled him off to his bay, closing the door behind them.   
She opened her mouth.  
  
_"Seven wrecks, thirty-four fender benders, twenty injuries-- three of them serious-- a three hour traffic jam, and on particular note numerous reports of a speeding gray muscle car and a custom big-rig! So, anything you care to get off your chest, Prime?"_  
  
Pax turned to the console woodenly.  
"B-03 went rogue." Fowler shut his mouth with a clack. "It has been made abundantly clear that he is not fit for active duty. And considering his actions as of late, I am not comfortable leaving the cadets in the same room as him."  
_"You think he'll flip and attack them?"_  
"No. But he might injure them indirectly in an escape attempt."  
The agent gave a curt nod and disconnected; 01 glanced at where the two mechs had disappeared.

"Stasis cuffs," he said grimly.  
  
  
  


They lasted for all of one day.

The base woke up, at four in the morning, to alarms blaring in the hangar: sometime in the night Wheeljack had figured out how to undo his binds, deactivate their alarm and unlock his door, and had made his getaway the exact moment the operator on night duty had gone to get a cup of coffee, to Omaha (judging by the latest set of coordinates that had been entered in the bridge). 

The whole thing was a mess: the mech had somehow managed to track down A-07, and their following fight had caused so much collateral it was incredible cops hadn't converged on the spot immediately. They bridged through just in time to save 03 from being gutted by his own sword.   
Optimus carried him back again. His finials were flat but, as usual, he didn't say a word and his field was so even and blank it might as well have been white noise. 

Agent Fowler barged in from the rooftop only a couple minutes after they got back.  
"Hey, you! Loose cannon!" 03 turned to look at him, unblinkingly.   
The agent raised one eyebrow. Only Fowler could look unimpressed in the face of a giant robot staring him down, but he seemed to realize yelling at the rogue mech wouldn't solve anything so he turned to Pax.   
"I had to vanish _ten_ accounts of this clown driving dangerously from outside Blair to Fort Calhoun, and then he blew up a gas station! Do you _know_ how hard it was to keep that from winding up on the eleven o' clock news? You're on thin ice," he warned, "any more of this, and the guys at the Pentagon will find a way to fire you, mark my words."  
Somewhere to his right, 00 sputtered.  
"They can't do that! We don't answer to the US military!" Fowler directed his death-glare at him.  
"But you _do_ answer to the world order. _Don't you_? Already they don't like how much independence you have, and if they get wind of this over _everything else_ that has happened lately, they _will_ start digging until they have enough dirt to bury you six feet under."

He rubbed his temples, suddenly looking very tired. "I'm trying to run interference, Prime, I really am. But sooner or later someone in HQ will notice all the things I've conveniently left out or trivialized, and they'll demand this _walking powder-keg_ 's core on a platter and the _rest_ of him shipped to St. Hilary; even _you_ couldn't prevent him from being decommissioned. And all your actions will be called into question as well."   
  


He looked back up at 03, meeting his gaze head on.   
"So either find him a pilot, beat him over the head with a stick until he _accepts_ a pilot, or tie him up, lock him behind bars deep underground and toss away the key, I don't care what you have to do. Just don't let him pull another stunt like this, 01. For his sake, and all of yours."  
  
  


* * *

A Leutenant entered General Bryce's office, saluted and slid a thumb drive across his desk.  
"The collective information obtained from the Special Units outpost. Your orders?"  
The General _hmm_ ed, slid it in a drawer for later perusal and tilted the computer screen towards him.

"Leland Bishop. Once a Colonel in our special tactics division in the United States military, dishonorably discharged for theft and high treason and wanted in all states." He brought up the second person's profile.  
"Commander Orion Pax, also former SpecOps. Silas was the architect behind Project Damocles, Pax headed Project Teletraan and his predecessor was behind the Vector Sigma database; they have similar backgrounds and military careers. This draws a worrying parallel. And from what the agents have managed to report, all pilots are unwaveringly loyal towards the current 01." Bryce narrowed his eyes. "With 09 MIA, that's too much knowledge and power in one man's hands."   
"You think the entire branch will go rogue?"  
"If they haven't already. I have the suspicion Agent Fowler has also gone native. We need to break up the chain of command as soon as possible, before it cements and they become a completely independent party. Drift Compatibility will pose a problem, but..."  
  


He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.  
"Silas did it somehow. And I want to know _how_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why there's been so much Wheeljack ever since he first appeared, well...  
> ...There's a reason for that. And you'll find out next chapter.
> 
> Anyway, Wheeljack being an insubordinate little shit is basically his _thing_ , that's why I wrote him so contrary. And it comes back to bite him.
> 
> The dialogue with the Doctor and his mech was the funnest thing to write in this chapter though XD.
> 
>  **EDIT!!!!!!!** : I added a new scene at the end, because I realized after I wrote it that it doesn't work as well as an intro as it does an outro!!! So. I added it. I'll post the notice on the following chapter too, in case someone misses it.


	29. Chapter 29

Jeff paced back and forth in the maintenance bay, having finished patching up 03's shoulder.   
"...What would he have us _do_ , Orion? We've already _tried_ locking him up, nothing seems to keep him in for long!" 

"We could force him into stasis lock."  
The engineer's mouth turned down in distaste.  
"It's an extreme measure, but it might be necessary: we were lucky thus far, that his core programming is intact enough to not directly cause harm to humans, that no one was caught in the crossfire, that we got there before he got killed. In the future, once we've learned more about mechs' thought processes, we could bring him back online and have him rehabilitated."  
"I'd like to know how he found Dreadwing," Kevin said from the back. His tone didn't betray any emotion. "Most of the time we have to wait for 'Cons to make a move, but he seems to have found him before that."  
"That's a good point," June agreed. "Perhaps being on the Nemesis for so long made him attuned to Decepticon signals?"  
"I don't know," Jeff sighed. He always felt out of his depth with the mechs, despite having helped construct many of them. "He was built as a brawler, not a scout, but he could have tweaked his own coding, or he knows something about how Decepticons communicate that we don't, or he's scouted ahead all those other times he sneaked out of the base. Anything is possible. If that's true, and if he took a damned _pilot_ or at least _cooperated_ , it could be extremely useful. As it stands, it's only one more problem."  
  
"What if we took turns standing guard at night and followed him everytime he escapes? That way he'll lead us straight to the 'Cons."  
Jeff turned to stare at 04.  
"You mean just let him go free? Have you gone _mad_?"  
"The idea has merit," 01 said, "but it is highly dangerous. Many things could go wrong." He thought for a minute.  
"We could test it, just once. If it works out, I can reassign members of the night team so two or more are in the hangar and close to the exits at all times on lookout. I don't like it, but it might be a better idea than putting him under again."  
  


  
So, when Ratchet slotted Wheeljack back into his dock, he left the cuffs off and the door unlocked. 01, 00, 04 and 06 took 3-hour shifts during the night to keep an eye on him. (The kids, having gotten used to hearing loud sounds at night, remained blissfully unaware of the entire ordeal).   
Predictably, for the following couple of nights 03 didn't make a peep.  
  
And then he did.   
Pax was on sentry duty when it happened, awake in Optimus's cab with the mech crouching in alt in his bay facing his closed door. 01 felt 03's almost entirely muted heat signature ghost past, his footsteps silent. Orion glanced at the camera installed in the hangar, both remaining absolutely still.  
03 wasn't fooled: he was obviously suspicious of the lack of restraints and personnel walking around, and when he entered the room his gaze landed directly on the cam. Was he picking up the frequncies it was emitting? The swordsmech's eyes narrowed and he moved towards the bridge in a clear challenge.

"Attention all units. 03 is up. 00, remain in the base. All others prepare to move out."  
 _"Where is he headed?"_  
Orion checked the coordinates on the screen, and sent them to the team whilst also zooming in on them.  
"Detroit."  
 _"Abandoned shipping depot? What would Decepticons be doing there?"_  
He had no idea. Perhaps 03 wouldn't find any this time.

They followed him out five minutes later; the portal opened up in a maze of containers, their metal sides interfering with thermal imaging and making high frequency comms completely unusable. 06 swore.  
 **"I'll bet _this_ is exactly why he chose this location. He knew we were going to follow, he's trying to lose us."**  
 **"Spread out,"** 01 ordered. **"Fire towards the sky if you find him, and be on the lookout for any Decepticon activity."** The other two nodded; Kevin took the right, Orion the left, and June jumped up on the nearest container stack to get a better view from above.  
04 ran towards the perimeter, to head the rogue bot off in case he tried to make a break for it; as he made his way down the narrow space between two tall stacks, a signature appeared and disappeared on Bulkhead's scanner and they slowed down to a walk, trying to keep quiet. He didn't know if it was Wheeljack, his teammates, or 'Cons, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Another signature flitted past and silver flashed out of the corner of his eye.  
 **"Wheeljack,"** he muttered. **"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but it's not worth it."**

  
And then the clangour of a metal press sounded and something huge and blue sledgehammered him into a wall.   
Blank yellow eyes on an orange face.   
Oh, he'd been _waiting_ for this.

 **"Richardson. Fancy bumping into each other in the middle of nowhere!"**  
 **"Breakdown,"** 04 growled, hefting himself out of the imprint he'd formed. **"Must be my lucky day."**  
The ex-05 grinned.  
 **"Didn't you hear? I go by CYLAS now. 'Cybernetic Life Augmented by Symbiosis'. Much more descriptive than 'Breakdown', don't you think?"**  
 **"Yeah. It fits your ego."**  
They circled, launched at each other and traded blows, maces meeting mauls and sending concussive ripples up their arms.   
**"Missed me, _Bulky_?"**  
 **"Like a rash on my backside."**  
CYLAS sneered and drew back for another attack; then his gaze flicked up and his expression grew shocked before instantly recovering: 03 was crouched atop the pile observing them with inhuman stillness, like a steel, mechanical gargoyle.   
04 pressed his mouthplates into a line and fired towards the sky.

 **"And the gang's all here! What a surprise, I thought for sure A-04 would have thrown you out of the airlock. We were just reminiscing about the good old times--"**  
 **"He's baiting us, Wheeljack! Don't--"**  
The green mech cut himself off because, contrary to his expectations, 03 wasn't moving to terminate the ex-Wrecker with extreme prejudice: he extended a tentative, confused, tattered-edged, _hopeful_ field instead, and 04 saw CYLAS's mouth curl into a smirk as he had his same horrible realization:  
  


He didn't know.   
05 had turned traitor, sold him out, got his pilot killed and _he didn't know_.  
  


He saw the moment he touched the black hole of emotion that used to be a B-unit, right as Silas fired its shoulder cannon at him-- only missing by an inch-- because his eyes widened and his field clamped tight, and he turned tail and vanished behind the stack.  
 **"Never thought I'd see the day when your _boyfriend_ would leave you in the face of adversity,"** the terrorist sneered. **"Ah, but that's not right, is it? _Did_ Starscream throw him out the airlock? Perhaps he left him to starve instead; what an inglorious end--"**  
 **"Shut _up_."**  
He got him square in the chest; he flew halfway across the pier, laughing all the way.  
 **"Do you even know? You _don't_ , do you...!"**  
 **" _I. Said. SHUT_ \--"**

A buzzing noise filled the air; an invisible force seized him and he was yanked sideways away from the river, straight into the magnetic plate of a gantry crane. CYLAS tossed a remote to the ground, stomped on it, and pulled out an unidentified weapon from his back.  
 **"MECH thanks you for your generous donation, 04. We'll be sure to put you to good use."**

He stalked towards him, only to be diverted by a barrage of blue blaster fire: Optimus and Arcee had found them; the terrorist snarled and lunged as former SpecOps snipers targeted the 'Bots, wanting to get at least _something_ out of this encounter-- by carving it out of him-- but power to the electromagnet was suddenly cut, he wrenched an arm free and sent the MECH leader staggering back to the shoreline dripping oddly-coloured energon.

The other two were fast approaching, firing at the ground around the snipers to push them back without killing them.  
 **"All units,"** CYLAS ordered resentfully. **"Disengage and initiate Omega protocols."** And he retreated, vanishing amongst the containers.  
  
  
Bulkhead heard a noise above him. He glanced up; Wheeljack was peering down at him over a support beam, a thick, severed electrical cord gripped in one fist.  
 **"Heh. Thanks, Jackie,"** he said, leaning heavily against the plate: CYLAS had sure done a number on him for such a brief battle.   
The mech gave a jerky nod and... disappeared again.  
 _Oh no._

 **"B-03, DESIST!"** The Prime called out, powering up the stack and chasing after him, 06 hot on his heels.  
 **"03, STOP! MECH has rigged the place to blow!"**

Wheeljack didn't hear, or, more likely, didn't listen: caution and obedience had never been his strong suit.  
  


The lot went supernova.  
  


* * *

  
The teens were awake when they got back: they stared from the platform as the trio of mechs trooped past hauling the fourth, all covered in scorch marks and soot.  
"...Did he escape again?" Jack asked.  
 **"Yes,"** Arcee answered shortly. 00, who had been waiting for them at the entrance to 03's quarters, took one look at their expressions and slumped.   
**"I knew this was a bad idea,"** he mumbled, and turned away. **"No choice, then. I'll get a vat."**  
Miko, who had followed them at a safe distance, glanced between him and 01, who, instead of shoving 03 back into his dock and slapping restraints on was just standing in the middle of the room, supporting him. The gray mech seemed just as confused by this turn of events as she was.  
  
Then a look of horror crossed her face. She _keened_ and rushed after Ratchet, slamming into his leg right as he emerged from the medbay.  
"No, _no_ , NO! You CAN'T! There _has_ to be another way!"  
He looked down at her, annoyed.  
 **"Do you think I want to do this? Believe me, if that stubborn scrapheap had given us _any_ other option we would have taken it. But he hasn't, and we can't live with a rogue, _armed_ , six-ton robot bridging all around the globe and getting into fights thrice a week!"**

The girl was crying now. She was... taking it harder than 00 had thought she would. True, they had synched once (if one could call it that), but that hardly warranted such a reaction! He lifted his foot, shaking it gently from side to side in an attempt to dislodge her; she clung on in a desperate sort of way.  
"So you're just going to _kill_ him?! You're no better than _'Cons_!" _What._  
He stared at her in disbelief. How did she get it in her mind that they were going to kill him? Sure, he was a pain, but there was absolutely no reason to when they could simply... oh.

 **"Miko,"** he said softly. **"We aren't going to kill him. We're putting him in stasis."**  
She looked up at him, her face wet.  
"...Stasis?"  
 **"Like how you found him on the Nemesis. It's a bit like a... medically induced coma, I suppose. We can bring him out of it whenever we want, but he can't by himself. It's perfectly safe."**  
She stared at him in the eye for a moment, then let go, plopping back to the floor, and slowly moved out of his way.  
  
  
Wheeljack must've gotten wind of what they were about to do, either by figuring it out himself or by overhearing the conversation in the corridor, because when 00 entered he started fighting like a demon against 01's hold, mauling everything within reach.  
 **"04--!"** Optimus called tightly as he struggled to maintain him captive; Bulkhead moved close from the corner where he was observing the scene and boxed him in. 03 twisted to stare at him with a betrayed look.  
Ratchet walked up to the group, wrested one of his forearms loose, connected a hose to his main fuel line and plugged into his wrist port to call a maintenance override. Energon started to drain into the container, growing brighter as the half-processed stuff was flushed out; his previously flat field flared in panic.

And, for the first time since his reawakening on the Nemesis, Wheeljack spoke.  
 **"No,"** he said. **"Don't. Let me go."**

The words themselves were dull, but were accompanied by a high, drawn-out, horribly pitiful sound that reverberated through the air, hurt their ears and audials and made their chests constrict, so much so that 04 nearly released him; but Ratchet finished, imputting a code that would keep him in stasis lock even after refilling his tanks, the noise cut off, and 03's whole frame went limp and lifeless.   
  


The Prime gathered him up and placed him back into his dock.  
 **"Well, that was unpleasant,"** Ratchet muttered, and disconnected. He checked his forearm monitor.   
**"Reactor's stable, radio waves standard for mechs in stasis, EM field consistent."** He said aloud for the benefit of the other two-- five, since Arcee was at the threshold and Jack and Miko were peeking in from around her legs.  
 **"He's fine. And one less thing to worry about, now."**  
They exited the bay. Bulkhead glanced at Miko. She was hugging herself, looking miserable. He wordlessly offered a palm for her and took her back into the hangar, away from the closed double doors.   
Feeling the weft of fractures crisscrossing the stone floor of his Drift.  
  
  


  
That evening, Kevin didn't find Miko in any of her usual spots; after checking the control room, the lounge platform, their living room and even her own bedroom, he stepped onto the landing and noticed Bulkhead in vehicle mode.  
Oh.

She was sleeping in his back seat again, curled into a tight ball.   
He went back into the house, got a quilt and draped it over her. Then he killed the lights.  
  


* * *

  
  
At the scene of the battle, an Agent kneeled by a small, faintly glowing green pool of liquid that had persisted despite the destruction reigning all around; he syphoned a small amount of it into an eye-dropper and contacted HQ.  
  


"Sir. I believe I may have found a clue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I hurt myself writing this? Why yes, I did. Now y'all have to suffer too.  
> Aaand that's why there's been so much Wheeljack lately: this is the last you're gonna see of him for... a _really_ long time.
> 
> !!!I added a scene at the end of last chapter because it worked better there, so go read it if you haven't already!!!
> 
> Anyway, I'm actively gearing up for the 'season finale' (or whatever it's called in a fanfic) now. It might not _seem_ like it for the next couple chapters, but believe me, I am. Also, next chapter won't be out for a while cuz I'm taking a bit of a break before starting on the next batch.
> 
> The mechs so far: 
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02:???  
> B-03: Wheeljack  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05: Breakdown  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07: Smokescreen  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09: Ultra Magnus  
> B-10: Bumblebee
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: Soundwave  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: Starscream  
> A-05: Makeshift  
> A-06: Airachnid  
> A-07: Dreadwing  
> A-08: Skyquake  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	30. Chapter 30

  
"Hey Jack, look! Hovercat!" Miko thrust her phone in his face. He stared crosseyed at the picture of a white cat loafing on a glass top table, and snerked; she grinned triumphantly.  
"I guess them paws don't disappear after all," he remarked, did a quick Google search on his own phone and slid it over.  
"I don't think you understand the _gravity_ of the situation." She giggled, lifting a hand to silence herself.  
"That's _gotta_ be photoshopped."  
They'd been doing this all day, just lazing on the couch playing video games, reading, and in Miko's case cooing over cat videos. Despite her cheery attitude, there were dark bruises under her eyes: yesterday had been rough for everybody involved.

"Y'know, I had you pegged as more of a dog person," Jack said offhandedly, scrolling down Youtube's AFHV list.  
"I like dogs too! It's just, in my last home the neighbours had this yappy labradoodle," she sank back into the cushion, "and the dorm didn't allow pets, but there were always two strays hanging around so I started sneaking them scraps. They looked like matted dust mops with ears. Still cute though! I called them Chi Chi and Ding Dong." She snickered again, flicked through a couple more memes, uttered an 'oh!' and snagged a passing 00.  
"Bot Doc, you'll like this! _When yo wrench fall_ \--"  
The pilot mouthed _'Bot Doc?'_ with affronted befuddlement, squinted at the screen and surprised everyone by letting out a bark of laughter; he immediately turned horrified at the slip-up. Jack grinned, paused the video and called out to Pax who was also walking by.  
"Hey 01, you want to see something funny?"  
"No," the team leader replied without a single glance their way.   
  


"...Wow, he _destroyed_ you, dude."  
"Don't take it personally," Combs sighed, pushing his spectacles up his nose. "As far back as I can recall, he's always been like that." In over a decade they'd worked together he'd never once seen him laugh, cry or loose his temper, and his genuine smiles were few and far between. In that aspect, he couldn't be more different from the first One.  
"What was the first Prime like?" Jack asked curiously. He jolted; he hadn't realized he'd said that out loud.

"A bit like you, actually," he said, smiling at their surprise. "He had a love for books and learning, quiet, the kind of person you'd forget in a crowd. But, he also had a sharp mind and eye, and could inspire anyone with his words. When the Decepticons first attacked, we weren't prepared; we had to reformat the Bs-- the three of them that existed back then-- for melee, and none of us had any formal combat training. But 01 was a natural leader." He realized he'd gotten maudlin and shook himself, jutting his chin at the red-and-blue mech standing vigilant at the monitors.  
"Optimus changed too. We had to completely rebuild him at one point, core outwards: he used to be two-thirds his current height."   
"Whoa," Miko muttered, trying to imagine a miniature Optimus Prime.

  
A notification chimed in the control room; Orion reappeared and made for their platform.  
"00, an unknown signal has been appearing intermittently in the Stanovoy Highlands in Siberia. I shall investigate."  
Combs straightened.  
"I'll keep our frequency open."

They watched as the 01s disappeared through the portal, then Miko turned back towards the engineer and gave him her best puppy eyes.  
"Can you tell us more? _Please_? Kevin's told me some, but he joined the team afterwards, I wanna hear your _origin story_!"  
The pilot rubbed his face, checked the time and realized that --for once-- he wasn't needed anwhere urgently and really, since he had to stay by the mainframe to wait for the Prime's signal, there wasn't much he _could_ do and might as well indulge her. Pity all his best stories were classified, but what she was asking for had happened so long ago he could make an exception.  
  
"Oh, all right."

_________________

It was night in Russia. The moon shone coldly over the wreck that had once been a warship, partially submerged under a dune; the winds must have uncovered it. Orion felt Optimus ever-so-slightly shift against him, and sighed: it was unlikely they'd find anything useful here, aside from cybertronium to send to the smelter. But before he could return, he needed to find its black box for identification.

________________

Jeff pondered over where to start.   
"Do you know why Decepticons are associated with purple?"   
The teens looked at each other.  
"Because... it's an evil-looking colour?" He snorted.  
  
"No. The A-Units started off on _our_ side in the first planetary war, you know. No, it's symbolic: they were supposed to be the ultimate synthesis of man and machine, the red of blood and the blue of energon fused into one being and colour. Turns out, the two don't mix very well," he said wrily. "Perhaps it was the irreversibility of it, and time leeched them of their empathy. Perhaps it had something to do with their weapons being directly wired into their brains, we still don't know. Whatever the reason, purple didn't work. So, after much trial and error, we managed to build the first B-Unit. Ratchet." He smirked when his mech sent a tiny barb down the line, laced with a 'you better not be talking shit' feeling. He sent it right back.

"I volounteered for testing and everything worked out, so we continued to produce them. Optimus is red and blue: both natures in one body, together yet separate, yadda yadda. The US Army also approved: very patriotic. Anyway, at the time the As hadn't fully turned yet, but we had definite suspicions something was wrong; they were... restless: the invaders had been mostly driven off, and they had nothing to fight against, nothing to return to. Their human bodies were being kept on life support in the old base at St. Hilary, but the CPP only goes one way. A-03-- he was a scientist on our team before he was transferred-- was trying to reverse it, but something went wrong during one of his experiments." He wondered whether he should elaborate, decided he didn't give a darn and forged on.  
"Their flesh bodies all died. That was around the point they rebelled, and we had only three B-Units ready for battle: Ratchet, Optimus Prime and B-02."  
  
"Elita One."

________________

The inside of the ship was coated in rust. Odd: one of cybertronium's many virtues was its resistance to oxidation, even in extraordinarily aggressive environments such as salt water, and time wouldn't affect that. There were dozens of drones scattered across the floor, all dead; not a single EM field to be sensed. They were all rusted too.  
A small energy signature appeared on their HUD, coming from the stern; Orion flicked on their lights and ventured further in.

________________

Miko was bouncing in her seat; Jack was slightly more composed, but only just.  
"That's the last one!" She grinned. "So, what did he look like? How many guns did he pack? Was he--"  
  
"She," Jeff spoke over her. "She was a 'femme'," he made air quotes, rolling his eyes at the term, "about 07's height and bright pink, just to drive the point home. Versatile frontliner and sniper, pretty massive guns for her size. You would've liked her." The girl was grinning from ear to ear. Yep.

"Anyway, 01 was an archivist, 02 a strategist and I was a researcher. Nerds every single one of us, not one lick of battle experience between the three: we hadn't thought we'd actually _have_ to fight, after all. The Bs that came after, the brawler team, they were _made_ for battle, and the 03 and 04 pilots were combat engineers. They had military training. 05--" he made a face and changed the subject.  
"01 and 02 though... they might not have had any experience, but they learned quickly. Best battle couple I've ever seen, though Richardson might not agree."  
  


He was interrupted by the console beeping again. He frowned: wasn't it a bit soon?  
  
  


_**"00. Call in all decontamination teams** _ **now** _ **. Toxin. The warship doused in Toxin**_ **made planetfall** _ **."  
  
** _

* * *

  
General Bryce brushed imaginary dust off his coat and stood in front of the UN Security Council, clasping his hands behind his back. The councilmen, seated in a three-quarters circle around him, straightened, and one spoke up.  
"We'd like to call the case USA General of the Army Robert Bryce versus USSO Commander and current Special Unit 01 pilot Orion Pax. Convicting party, briefly present your evidence: how do you justify your request for relieving the Prime from duty?"

The General gestured at the presentation behind him, which switched to show a recording of a container lot blowing up then zooming in on the three figures on the shoreline.  
"This happened yesterday in downtown Detroit, only 200 yards away from a well-travelled road. No Decepticons were present on the scene: from what data we could recover, this was solely the work of a rampaging B-Unit, B-03 to be exact. That same unit wreaked havoc in Southern Sweden three days ago. But these are only the lastest offences: in order from most recent, 01 has also let A-08 loose into a capital after falsely reporting its deactivation, let a Decepticon infiltrate the Outpost, has, over the course of two years, been unable to procure a pilot for B-07 despite possessing an ample pool of skilled candidates, lost two 08s and their Unit... and looking further back the list goes on. The Mission Battle comes to mind: he got two promising pilots killed and lit part of the city on fire; the fallout still plagues the surrounding area to this day."

Another member leaned forward.  
"You present good points, General; but do you believe that, in his position, you could have done better?"  
"Perhaps not in the past," Bryce conceded. "But scientists have now found a way to overcome the issue of Drift Compatibility, and with my expertise I am positive I can lead the Special Units Division to victory. Whereas, I am doubtful the current Prime would be open to this new technology: he seems to have developed an unhealthy attachment to the units."

"Your case has been noted. The meeting is adjourned for verifying your statements and the Prime to voice his defence."  
  
That was when they received a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another obligatory Exposition Chapter. While it undoubtedly holds a lot of information, I hope I also managed to make it interesting!  
> Yes, we are now in the 'Season 1 finale'. Strap in, folks, it's gonna be a wild ride.
> 
> And we hath completed the B-series!!!
> 
> The B-units:  
> B-00: Ratchet  
> B-01: Optimus Prime  
> B-02: Elita One  
> B-03: Wheeljack  
> B-04: Bulkhead  
> B-05: Breakdown  
> B-06: Arcee  
> B-07: Smokescreen  
> B-08: Cliffjumper  
> B-09: Ultra Magnus  
> B-10: Bumblebee
> 
> The A-units:  
> A-01: Megatron  
> A-02: Soundwave  
> A-03: ???  
> A-04: Starscream  
> A-05: Makeshift  
> A-06: Airachnid  
> A-07: Dreadwing  
> A-08: Skyquake  
> A-09: ???  
> A-10: ???


	31. Chapter 31

Half of Optimus's face was missing. 

That was all Jeff could focus on. The hazmat response teams had hosed him off on site to prevent the Toxin ( _Toxin_ ; he hadn't heard that word in _ages_ ) from spreading and causing more damage than it had already had; his plating should've _glistened_. Instead, it was a dull matte: the poison had eaten through his top coating of varnish and in some areas penetrated deeper, creating rotten, rusted patches. One of which was in his face.  
**"...Caused a disturbance. Dripped in my eye,"** he heard him say, far away. As he made for his quarters, one of his pauldrons grazed the wall and he _stumbled_. 

" _06_ ," 00 snapped, whipping his head towards the blue pilot only to find her already halfway across the hangar. "Help me up," she ordered Ratchet, jabbing her thumb in the Prime's direction; his mech, wholly unconcerned about possible cross-contamination, did, and caught Orion in his other hand when he fell from the gap above 01's solar plexus.

Jeff closed his eyes and projected himself across the link, treading carefully: Ratchet's antiquary shop dimension felt more cluttered and fragile than usual, chalices and vases placed on the very edge of shelves where anything could knock them over; he paused to push a particularly perilous one back.   
_Let me see._  
When he reopened them, he was seeing through his mech's. His vision was stained orange and acqua; the colours of the two pilots' suits altered to fit. Pax lay limply with his eyes screwed shut and a forearm slung over his brow, and 06 crouched next to him with two fingers on his carotid arteries.  
  
**"How is he?"** Jeff asked, hearing his own voice boom and reverberate in B-00's chassis. Darby pursed her lips.  
"I will be fine," Orion said between laboured breaths. "Our exposure was... brief; Optimus... bore the brunt of it."  
"You got hit by a Quintesson neurotoxin _engineered_ to cripple mechs and humans alike. However brief it might've been, it was still enough to cause dyspnea: you could have pulmonary lesions. You need a bronchoscopy _now_." Her irises flashed blue at the last word, and Jeff felt Ratchet resonate and harmonize with the same feeling-- echoed from B-06-- towards the 01 unit. He pulled away from the maze of towering bookcases and endless hallways and back into his own mind, shook his head and turned to follow, only to stop when the monitors lit up.

 _"00, requesting a groundbridge from New York UNSC: General Bryce incoming."_ Shit, shit, _shit_. There couldn't have been worse timing.  
  
  
He opened the portal-- because what else could he _do_ \-- all the while feeling his innards lump as if soaked in astringent; the man arrived with a platoon of soldiers.  
"General, I'm afraid you've come at a bad time. The Heretic--"   
"I heard," Bryce interrupted him. "That's why I'm here. Is the 01 Unit badly damaged?"  
"The Toxin lost potency during its isolation period: damage is... _mostly_ cosmetic."   
"I see. And its pilot?"  
"He'll make full recovery," he stated confidently, despite not knowing whether that would be the case: he had to. The General looked at him as if calling him out on his bluff, then turned to gaze over the hangar.

"00, gather all the pilots, trainee pilots and the crew currently on duty. I have come to inform you of the changes that will soon occur in this Outpost's command hierarchy."  
  


"From now until further notice, I shall be taking over as Prime of the Special Units Division."

* * *

"I can't believe it," June hissed. She was still partially synched; sparks flew from her eyes. "I cant believe they chose _now_ to pull this."  
"That's the thing," Kevin replied blankly. "They really _do_ think it's for the best."  
"Can't they _see_ that's what went wrong the first time? It drove them _mad_!"  
"We don't know that for sure."

The blue pilot looked towards their third member, facial markings fading back into her skin. He hadn't spoken since Bryce had left.  
"Jeff?"  
  
  


_"But what about the crossing-over? What if you aren't Drift Compatible? We don't even know if mechs_ can _support two links at once, the old pilots always died before we could find replacements!"_  
_"That's no longer a problem. We have finally gained insight on how MECH achieved total control over B-05."_  
_"What? How?"_  
_"We believe it was through an inhibitor, of sort: something that can suppress any independent impulses. We have finally replicated such substance and the UN has approved the motion to test it on a B-unit."_

 _At his horrified expression, the General's face softened._  
_"I realize that over the years, you've come to think of them as... companions. Individuals," he said, almost gently. "It's only natural. I've seen how some officers act around the K-9s... but you_ must _know that their so-called sentience is just an unnecessary, dangerous variable. They aren't human, no one can predict how they'll react in a given situation. They aren't even alive, really: they're just very smart machines. It's for the best."_  
_He drew back._

_"Perhaps some distance is what you require to see the truth of my words: I've requested that, as a precaution, Unit 00 be the first one infused."_

_Jeff jerked his head up._  
_"..._ What _?"_  
_"As currently non-combatant, B-00 is the most expendable of the series. If something were to go wrong and the mech rendered useless, our firepower wouldn't he hugely compromised." Bryce glanced behind him. Ratchet, sensing his pilot's distress, had pried himself away from tending to his leader and was looming over them; Jeff sent him a pleading..._ something _. He didn't know what the consequences of disobeying the General would be, but he couldn't agree to this._ He _couldn't._  
  
_But the 'Bot nodded._  
_He was submerged in ice water. Oh, but their programming was_ cruel _._

_"Even it agrees with my logic," the General said with some amusement, and turned away._

  
  
  


He'd been staring at the same patch of wall for the past quarter hour.  
For the first time in over twelve years, he was alone in his mind. 

There had been no severed link, no blinding, splintering agony, nothing like what the mechs must've felt when their pilots died. Just a slow degradation, shelves buckling under their own weight, crumpling, ancient tomes falling and being swallowed by the void, crystal statues shattering into a million glittering pieces, all in silence. All that beauty, lost. And the bond itself dipped under the black currents of the Drift dimension and faded from all senses.

Something trickled down his nose.  
He was crying. Fuck.  
"...Jeff?" June tried again, raising a hand to his back; he brushed it away while rubbing at his face furiously.

"I need a drink," he muttered brusquely, and stomped off to his quarters in the repair bay. Anywhere but there. Anywhere but around _people_.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
He'd put in a good effort and gotten through an entire bottle of Port, enough that when Ratchet was returned to the Outpost-- around the changing of the shifts-- he was well and truly sloshed. He waited until everyone had left and the day-lights were switched off, then stumbled up to the 'Bot's launchpad and collapsed against the solid orange centerpiece of his breastplate, feeling for... anything. Any hint of the familiar spark.  
As clean energon from the Outpost reserves replaced the vile stuff circulating through his frame, the endless black took on a warmer hue. His fingers twitched and curled; with much effort, he lifted an arm and rested it close to his pilot, who swelled with a warm, bright ache and dripped on him.

 _ **Dehydrated. Unwise.**_  
  
The man pounded a fist against his chest, weakly. He recoiled.  
"What did they do. What did they make _you_ do?" _To convince them they had total control?_  
In the dark dimension, a bedside lamp flicked on: a tiny puddle of light amidst the ruins; no answer was forthcoming.

" _Why_ ," he rasped. "Why would you agree. Why would you believe him? It's not _worth_ it."  
_**Hypocrite**_ , the mech told him bluntly, but not unkindly. _**?Weren't you prepared to sacrifice yourself when you chose me? You couldn't have known if you'd survive the crossing-over.**_  
"But you're not supposed to be like me," Jeff said helplessly. "I made you to be _better_."  
Ratchet didn't reply, just gave one slow, trusting blink and opened up a little more. 

"When this stupid war is over," the pilot slurred, head lolling against his grill, "I'll set you free. All of you. I promise. I'll find a way."   
Ratchet gave a gentle rumble that he felt in his bones.  
_**Don't make promises you can't keep. Without the drive, there is a chance we might fall. Like the First.**_  
  
"I know that. But you're... better..."   
He dropped off.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Orion slowly picked his way up the launch tower-- pausing every couple steps to lessen the jabbing pain in his ribs-- knowing he would find both the Head Engineer and his mech there. Upon nearing them, he got a whiff of alchohol and shuttered his eyes: he'd been afraid of this.   
But he only had a couple minutes, so he kneeled by the other man and shook him.  
"00. Wake up."  
He jerked awake. His glasses were askew on his face; Orion frowned and straightened them.  
"Wha... Peter?"  
"No," he replied, keeping his voice low, "I'm sorry. I have something I must give to you before I go."  
"You're leaving again?" The orange-and-white pilot asked tiredly, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and levered himself up to wrap his arms around him in a trembling embrace.   
Orion stiffened for a fraction of a second, then relaxed into the touch and slowly disentangled himself from it, lowering the other back down.  
"Good luck, old friend," he caught, and barely restrained a flinch. This had been a mistake.

  
His ten minutes were nearly up; on his way back to the hangar, where his escorts awaited him, he noticed Jack's curious waxen face peering out from the gap in the 06 bay doors and paused.  
"Jack. Will you keep something for me?"  
The boy blinked, visibly thrown by the request.  
"...Uh, sure?"

He unpocketed the keycard and handed it to him.  
"Give this to your mother when she returns, and tell her: 'should anything happen during my absence and you are in need of assistance, take this to St. Hilary'. Understand?"

At his nod, he turned to walk away.  
"What is it?"  
"It is... the spare key to the groundbridge power supply."  
  


And he left before he could question his tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's supposed to read a bit like a fever dream. Everything happens so fast, it seems like nothing is actually true (but it is). Dunno if I managed to convey that without sounding stilted ~~(also featuring: me not knowing how tf to write Optimus/Orion/01/whoever.)~~
> 
> Anyway: Jeff (being humanformer Ratchet, basically) has a _boatload_ of guilt, while Ratchet-the-mech has a massive inferiority complex/rotten sense of self-worth he probably inherited straight from him. Fun.  
> The Toxin is kind of a mix between Tox-En and Cybonic Plague.
> 
> Also, you might notice I added the "Platonic Slow Burn" tag. This is because a _lot_ of the story focuses on the kids becoming (and later on being) pilots, and I couldn't think how to otherwise tag that developing relationship 'cause I don't know _how_ to classify... whatever you'd call it. The thing between the mechs and the pilots. I figured 'platonic' is a wide enough term (and 'Slow Burn' since 63K+ words in none have become pilots yet...)


	32. Chapter 32

A wise officer once said, "it's really amazing how easy it is to fool people. To gain access to a restricted area, a ladder might as well be a valid ID: everyone will just assume you're there to change a lightbulb." 

Case in point: all Bill needed to enter a private hospital on military grounds was a black nondescript suit, a briefcase and a businesslike demeanour, and no one looked at him twice. He straightened his tie while glancing out the window; or rather _at_ the window, since the weather outside was dark and drizzly and the panes doubled as one-way mirrors, letting him scope his surroundings without making it obvious.  
After ascertaining that he was alone, he slipped behind the last door in the hall.

On the other side was Pax; he looked up at his entry and inclined his head in greeting.

"Special Agent Fowler," he said vaguely. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. "I did not expect you would be allowed to meet me."  
"I had to call in a couple favours." An understatement: he'd had to jump through _hoops_ to ensure their meeting would fly under the radar. But back to the point.  
"Pr-- Pax," he bulldozed over his blunder and lowered his tone "--the pilots want to know if you have any last orders. They were informed your condition was guarded and 01 was carted off right after you left. What should I tell them?"

Pax appeared to think about it for a moment.  
"Only that they hold the new Prime in the same esteem as they did me." He resumed looking through the database on the screen in front of him; the agent's eyebrows rose.  
"Really?"   
Pax mirrored his expression.  
"Do you not believe him worthy?"  
He grimaced and took a step back, considering. Part of him rebelled at the mere suggestion. But most of the reason he was here was _because_ he'd the suspicion the General's motivations weren't wholly altruistic, rather guided by ambition: for those who persued a military career, 'Prime' was the highest honour achievable. That, and his scheme just plain rubbed him the wrong way; and if it rubbed _him_ the wrong way he could only imagine how the pilots would react: 06 had looked _mutinous_. But he'd managed to convince the UN council, so he wouldn't voice anything aloud.  
"What do you think?" He asked instead. Despite any misgivings he might've initially had about the former 01, the man had upheld his oath to act solely in defence of Earth and humanity for over a decade: he trusted his judgement.  
"We-- Optimus and I-- think that General Bryce's course of action comes from somewhere genuine," he replied, and turned to face him fully. Bill had the feeling that, had B-01 still been aware, his pupils would have flashed supernatural blue.

"That is the only reason we let him assume command. And I sincerely hope it works."

The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably; he resisted the urge to rub it. _Let_. Unit E, the Special Units Division, had to perforce operate outside the rigid structures of national armed forces; its performance heavily relied on the integrity of its leader. They both knew the 01s could have refused: the pilots would have backed their decision, and who would go against four synched B-units, even without the Decepticon threat looming like a thunderhead?  
  
"But I do have a request," Pax continued, and he straightened in attention. "Do you remember Project Teletraan?"   
He frowned.  
"You talking about the VTOLs? Wasn't it discontinued 'cause the higher-ups chickened out?"  
"Essentially. No one wished to produce energon-powered flyers after the As rebelled, they preferred to focus on making smaller units built for peacetime functions as well as combat. But if this new formula works as predicted, all concerns regarding them will be alleviated. Their plans are still in Vector Sigma: I ask that you bring this information to the UN council as soon as possible."  
The agent nodded.  
  
"I'll do my best."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Bryce flexed his hands, watching as the suit's repeated the action with only the slightest delay; so far, things were progressing well with B-01, excellently even. He smiled wrily: the compound they'd stolen from the terrorist organization performed above and beyond what he'd expected when he'd first laid eyes on it; he'd have to remember to thank Silas when they next met, before he brought the rain on his organization.  
The pilots had been irksomely tight-lipped about everything regarding the mechs, never giving any more information than they were expressly ordered to; but from earlier reports, experiences the cadets had shared and what he'd wrung out of the evens, he'd pieced together what the Drift was usually like. Since entering it, he hadn't hallucinated any otherwordly environments or eldritch creatures, nothing that would lead him to believe there was anyone but himself inside 01's chest cavity: good.   
(He had felt a slight sense of foreboding, but he chalked that up to listening to the trainees' tales too much.)   
  
The only drawback he'd had thus far was that the constant influx of data from the sensors and lower limbs had given him a pounding headache (how did the pilots _stand_ it?); he stepped onto the launch tower massaging his sinuses.  
"Test #5, mobility increased by 15%," he told the private standing at attention with a clipboard, "still has issues with overlapping infrared and motion feeds. If they continue, I'll order the head engineer to have them cut: in a frontliner they are relatively useless features anyway."  
  


The man-- boy, really, he couldn't be older than twenty-five-- was staring instead of jotting this down.  
"Well?"  
He felt something trickle down his chin; he wiped it with the back of his hand.  
  
It came away red.  
His nose was bleeding.   
He turned back towards B-01. Somehow, the stiff, red-and-blue suit was disquieting, like it was somehow looking at him through its empty sockets. Looking, and _judging_.  
_How dare it?_  
"Uh-- here, sir," the private said, flustered at having been caught, holding out a packet of tissues then ducking behind and busying himself with notes. He took it, a bit out of sorts. (Had he hit the inside wall during testing? He couldn't remember. He had to--)  
  
The base-wide alarm went off with flashing red lights, signaling a high priority mission. Above the noise, 06's voice rang loud and clear.  
  


_"Code red. I repeat: code red. Big Bird over the fishbowl."_

  
  


  
Her voice continued through the speakers as soldiers and engineers and mechs alike spilled into the central corridor heading towards the bridge.  
_"B-Ts, man your stations. Bracket transfer in oh-five mikes. Grid coordinates: latitude, 47.608015; longitude, -122.335167. Lock on Seattle, Washington. Air Force on counter-battery fire. All units, prepare for close combat upon exit."_  
Arcee strode up to the platform, let her pilot jump into her chest cavity, then broadcasted the last part through radio.  
_**"Switch to multi-targeting, medium-to-short range equipment. Gear up and synch."**_  
  
04 came in next, glancing around for the other units.  
**"Coming in clutch,"** he commented, shifting his weight from foot to foot in anticipation as they waited for their bridge. **"C' _mon_. Been waiting for them to launch a full-out attack."**  
**"Not a fan of collecting rust in your unmentionables?"**  
**"Pure cybertronium ball bearings,"** he smirked, **"always ready to kick some can."** They grinned viciously. **"Where's our fearless leader?"**

Bryce finally appeared in the doorway, signaling something to the underlings milling about 01's legs; to a trained eye, his movements appeared choppy. Uncertain.  
04 and 06 shared a brief glance. They had their orders and would abide by them. But as far as they were concerned, he was their leader in name only.

Optimus Prime hadn't chosen him.

  
  
  


  
Jack was stressing.   
You'd have thought he'd be used to it by now.  
But he'd seen a code red before. He'd _been_ in it. How could he forget the day he'd been introduced to the world of sentient robots, intergalactic wars, enormous spaceships and psychic links?   
It had razed his hometown to the ground.   
(Could there have been others in the meantime, and his mom had just never told him to spare him the nightmares?)

Jack was stressing, and he knew it. The new management had categorically stated that no one but authorized crew could be in the control room at _any_ time, so the best thing he could do was just... stay out of everyone's way. Pretend to be furniture in 06's quarters and wear a groove in the floor.   
A squad clad in combat uniforms hurried past the chink in the doors. 

And two fingers sprouted from the pavement, pinched his leg and yanked him under. 

He made an undignified squeak (muffled by the layer of bedrock) that he would forever after deny, struggled, then froze and held his breath when he realized just where he was and who the digits likely belonged to.

" _Smokescreen_ ," he choked when the mech saw it fit to spit him back out in a quivering heap, "what the _hell_."  
Luminous baby blue orbs peered up at him.  
**"Don't speak. Searching for me, want me green. Look away."** He retracted till only his crest jutted out of the tarmac; it shark-finned to the back of the room and rose when the mech re-emerged to hide behind the house. His legs overflowed.  
"They want _what_?"  
B-07 made flappy gestures.   
**"Chain me. Suppress me. Make fuel flow green."** 01's eyes had gone green after Bryce had taken over; since then, the other units had gotten skittish to the point that even _he'd_ noticed. And they wanted to do the same to 07 because the selection process was taking too long?  
"That's..."  
  


His phone rang; he fumbled for it with shaky hands.  
"Hello? Jack?" Raf's voice came through the speaker.  
"Oh. Hey," he answered, deflating. "What's up?"  
"Um..." the boy sounded unsure, "do you know if I was supposed to have an appointment today? 'Cause I've been waiting for a few hours... or was it tomorrow? Maybe I got it wrong. I tried calling Agent Fowler but he didn't answer..."  
"I think they forgot. Things have been--" _hectic_ wasn't the right word "--crazy," Jack finished lamely. Something was digging against his thigh; he felt his pocket again, frowning.  
"Oh. Is it because of what's happening in Washington?"  
"You know about that?"  
"Yeah," he replied with a chastised tone, "I know I shouldn't, but radio tells me stuff. I think Bumblebee might've tuned me to SWAT frequencies when he poked around my brain." There were several things about that sentence he would've found off-putting had he not been preoccupied with freeing an unfamiliar shape from the lining. "I've seen some recordings, I've been taking them down since the Autobots are top secret, right? I ran across this..."

He stared vacantly at the keycard he'd just extracted. One thing. 01 had asked him to do _one_ thing, and he'd _forgotten_. 

"...Jack?"   
"Do you know anything about a place named St. Hilary?"  
There was a pause as the other digested the change of subject.

"I don't think so?"  
"00 said it was their old base during the first war," and he was _positive_ he'd heard the name elsewhere, but for the love of him he couldn't remember _where_. "I met Pax while he was leaving and he said that if something happened, my mom had to take a thing to St. Hilary. But I forgot to tell her."  
  


"It's where the 'Bots are sent to be reprogrammed," Miko (how did she sneak past the General's men?) mumbled behind him; she was looking at Smokescreen's cowering frame in the corner. "I heard Bryce--" she said the name with distaste "--mention it once. Fowler too, I think? He was talking about spare parts or something." 

He examined the keycard. It was big, roughly the size of his hand, and the jagged intricate penduncles branching out of its main body gave it a strangely organic appearance: it reminded him of a flattened scarab beetle. Blue veins ran across its surface.  
"There are roughly thirty towns called St. Hilary in the world," Raf reported from the other side, having run a quick internet search, "and that's not even counting all the things like street names and stuff. Are you sure that's what it was?"  
Miko pointed at the phone and mouthed 'Raf?'; Jack nodded while pondering the question: they had to narrow it down somehow.

"Actually, that's something that's bothering me: Combs, Fowler and Bryce have all mentioned the name before, right? I know the staff has confidentiality, but if this place is super secret--" as he suspected "--would they really go around talking about it where anyone could hear? I'm thinking 'St. Hilary' isn't its real name."  
Miko threw her hands in the air.  
"Great! So we're back to square zero. Didn't the Boss tell you _anything_ else?"  
He racked his brain.  
"No?" He ventured finally. "He literally just asked me if I could keep something for him, and gave me this," he showed it to her, "and said to tell 06 'should anything happen during my absence and you are in need of assistance, take this to St. Hilary', and that's it. I _did_ ask him what this was, he said it was a key to the groundbridge power supply."

The girl poked at it doubtfully.  
"Seems kind of big and fancy to be just that." _It did, didn't it._  
"Sorry I couldn't be more of help," Raf said, drawing his attention back, "but I really have to go now: if I stay out too long, Pilar starts thinking I've been abducted."  
"Thanks anyway. Stay safe over there."  
"And say hi to Izzy from me!" Miko added in a whisper-holler, and he hung up.  
  


Mystery unsolved, the teens automatically made for the house's common room. When they reached the landing, B-07 leaned forward.  
**"St. Hilary is where failed prototypes go to get harvested,"** he said lowly. His doorwings drooped so much they nearly touched the floor. He cocked his head as if listening to a distant sound.

  
And then, with a high pitched, desolate reverberation,  
**"A-01 brought Team Leader down."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh booooooy, here we GO.  
> So despite knowing exactly what happens, it was still incredibly hard for me to write this chapter, because the words just didn't want to come to me. Heh.
> 
> Might take a bit of a break, because the next chapter's gonna be... hard.


	33. Chapter 33

The 'Cons had carpet-bombed an entire borough. The Nemesis hovered low over the desolation, preparing to mete out more destruction as endless formations of drones poured out of it darkening the sky.   
The pile of rubble nearby had been an apartment block, just a half hour ago. One of its balconies had survived mostly intact: on the clothesline, a dusty, sun-patterned carpet had been hung to dry.

The 04s didn't spare the hellscape a second glance: they'd been long inured to violence and death. Just one more failing in their character.

06 had been a nurse. _Do no harm,_ she'd sworn. But 06 had also been a spy and a saboteuse, and 06 was a soldier. So she merged her heart with one of steel and distanced her mind, faced their enemies and left the twenty survivors underground.  
  


Megatron's blade had pierced through them both; their human half had died instantly: red mixed with acid green, turning a dark rotten colour. But as the other bled out the taint and his consciousness returned, for a moment, before burning up, the pool gleamed bright Decepticon purple.

  
From where he was being detained, Orion felt him come back online. _It hadn't worked._  
The pilot still reached out and latched onto the dimming presence; someone else might find it disturbing in its imperturbability, but he'd always used it as a crutch: it was his greatest weakness.  
_Where are they. Where are_ you.  
**_They are returning to the Cradle,_ **Optimus replied. **_For revenge._**  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Miko broke the stunned silence.  
"We have to get that thing to St. Hilary. So, Smokes," she rounded on the mech, "where do we go?"  
B-07 shook his head, faintly spooked by her fervour.   
"Oh c'mon, you _have_ to know the way! It's not like we're sending _you_ to get dismantled, don't be a giant chicken--" the girl seemed to be gearing up for a tirade and 07 had this look like he was contemplating escape, so Jack cut her short mid-sentence.

"Wait, _wait_." One thing at a time. " _Do_ you know where it is?"  
A single, cautious nod.   
"Then are you forbidden from telling anyone, er, unauthorized?" He continued (before Miko could do anything but utter an aggrieved sound), because that was the other sticking point, wasn't it?  
More miserable nodding. Okay then. How could they work around _this_ one?  
**"The Key is one anchor,"** Smokescreen said slowly, **"Team Leader is the other."**  
He was obviously trying to hint them along, rather ineffectually. ("Be a little more cryptic, would you" the girl muttered).   
**"An _anchor_. For the--"** he spat out a static-laden, unintelligible word and grumbled in annoyance. **"B-06 told you already. Take it. Stand still. _Look_." **

He held the keycard out. Were its veins... glowing? He pivoted on his heel; every time he pointed it at the mech, it glowed brighter, as if he was somehow amplifying it.  
And he was struck by inspiration.

Jack straightened his back, walked up to the edge of the balcony; B-07 leaned forward. The teen knocked on his chest, meeting the mech's unblinking stare, and swallowed. In a rare show of human emotion, Smokescreen grinned.  
The gray plates parted before him.  
**"You got it. Follow, fearful-partner. Take us there."**  
  


The Key was a compass: inside the Drift, cut off from all external disturbances, it glowed so brightly it was painful to look at; but more importantly, a thread lead off from it into the distance like a pilot-mech link, minus the glowing beads. Did the Key, or whatever was at the other end _also_ have a mind of its own?

 **Its home is at St. Helens,** 07 told him smugly, not having to navigate his blocks anymore.  
**"St. Helens? The volcano that erupted thirty years ago?" Yes.**  
**"That's all the way over in Washington." Web-out.**  
**"I thought everyone here was hunting for you?" Web-out _fast_.**  
**"Nooot a good idea,"** Jack felt their leg hydraulics tense; he held them back, which resulted in them pitching (rather painfully) into the side of the building. _**?Why?**_ **"Because they'll know where we've gone. The logs, remember? And then we'll have an army on our tail."** Most likely literally.   
**I can outspeed them,** the mech replied scornfully. Jack very much doubted he could outspeed fighter jets.  
**"Smokescreen, _no_. We need to figure out a way to bridge out without anyone noticing."** Perhaps by Phase Shifting? Did B-07 have other handy ninja abilities?  
  


"Well, if all you need's a distraction," Miko chirped, having heard Jack's side of the conversation, "I can help with that!"

  
  
  


More people were in the base than usual, but most of them were either scattered throughout the area searching for their wayward unit or up top running communications: the only ones present in the hangar when Miko snuck in were the five in the control room, a marshaller, two engineers, a bridge technician and a snooty agent with a vaguely familiar face, who all stopped what they were doing and peered at her with varying levels of bewilderment.  
"What are you doing here?"

Of course, that was the precise moment her imagination failed her.

"...I dropped my pencil!"  
(Hidden behind a pile of boxes, Jack facepalmed and winced at the resounding clang. Thankfully, no one heard. Smokescreen tittered.)  
"Your what," an engineer deadpanned. Miko spied 07 creep out of their hiding spot.  
"It's my _favourite_ pencil," she tried, in an attempt to spin her straws into a convincing tale, "I use it for everything! I sketch a bunch of stuff in my free time. Could you, like, help me find it?" The operator got up. 07 was still there. _Crap_.  
"Listen," he said, "you can't just walz up here and-- who are you? Identify yourself."  
Agent Whatshisface's expression cleared and broke into a nasty smile; she got a bad feeling.

"Wait. I remember now. You're that girl Orion Pax sent to get in the way of our investigations." _Huh?_ "Still under his orders, I bet." Uh oh.   
"On second thought, perhaps it fell through the mesh," Miko babbled, backing up a couple steps. "I'll just, uh, leave."   
"No, no. You," the agent motioned at the engineer, "escort her from the premises."  
The other hesitated.  
"Are you sure? She's--"  
"Don't be fooled by her appearance. Why would a civilian girl be allowed inside the Special Units base? It might've worked the first time," he continued, narrowing his eyes at her, "but I've had time to reflect. Quite a clever ruse, I'll admit: you stopped me from getting any information and I didn't even realize." Oh, _that's_ why he looked familiar. Well, crap. "I was told Pax is more ruthless than he lets on. I'm sure the Prime would love to know your orders..."  
The engineer still looked a bit discomfited, but nonetheless took her by the upper arm and tugged her away from the control room, to god knows where.  
  
**"Sorry, Miko,"** Jack muttered. But she'd been successful: no one saw the bridge flare up and B-07 exit.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
In battle, there was so many variables: a stray shot from a vehicon refracted through a reinforced glass pane, changing its direction; a breach in the water main five feet below; an unstable pillar; that eradicon still had three out of six frag grenades in its bomb-bay; this other aimed and they needed to dodge _now_ \-- and so on. The amount boggled the mind: it wasn't _made_ to process this amount of information.   
But the 'Bots were. Arcee was the one to take in all of this, sort out the important bits and send them to her; humans don't use echolocation, but the fuzzy outline at their six might as well've been a flashing red 'DANGER' sign for how her brain interpreted it, and her reaction was near automatic. Reflex. That's how they worked.  
The synergy between the mechs and the pilots was what made them powerful. Without Arcee, she'd go mad.  
If, in the future, someone were to ask her whether she'd been surprised seeing 01 topple-- slowly, as if the world refused-- she'd say no. They had known from the get-go. But that didn't stop the icy pit of dread from dragging at their limbs as they fought to stay mingled, because _Optimus was down_ and the A-series's first-of-line was right _there_.

And they had to stop him.  
  


Megatron's blade had pierced B-01 through, but it hadn't touched his reactor. The warmech --high on Dark-En and battle-lust-- leered and drew back for the killing blow--

It was hard to build up enough momentum to land a decent attack when you had anywhere from half to a sixth (or less) the mass of your enemies, but there were certain advantages to being small and fast, especially since getting a direct hit from A-01's fusion cannon meant you were screwed either way, thick plating or not. And she had strong legs.   
Even Megatron couldn't brush off two tons of cybertronium crashing into his head at 80 mph, springboard off him-- transferring all the accumulated kinetic energy-- and into the nearest foe. In fact, he was rendered airborne. Arcee delivered a quick stomp to the vehicon's skull mask and blurred out of sight; Bulkhead caught hold of her upon touchdown, spun and hurled her towards a passing squad (which promptly crash-landed), laser-slashed through another and the four of them engaged the rest, back to back.

 **"The Air Force is coming."**  
**"Just gotta hold them off, eh?"** 04 smiled grimly. Four beings against a legion.

**"Well, what the hell. It's a good day to die."  
**  
  


* * *

  
  
Jack and Smokescreen fell through the psychedelic wormhole and landed on the mountain's slope. They paused to face North, towards the wind and the horizon, where they could almost imagine a hint of unnatural red; then Jack turned his attention inwards and followed the highlighted path up into the caldera-- but was it really a caldera? Or had the eruption been a cover story for something else?-- where an entrance lay camouflaged between the rocks. 

The closer they got, the twitchier the mech became.  
"You know, you don't have to chaperone me the whole way," Jack said: the place looked pretty much abandoned. "You can stay outside if you want."  
An invisible tendril snaked up his leg; it took all of his willpower not to kick it.  
**_They_ live here. Do not trust.**  
Despite the ominous remark, he didn't exude any true alarm. He even let the human out and set him down (albeit with some reluctance), and he wouldn't if he thought it was dangerous, right?  
The doors slid open silently at their approach.  
  


Jack entered, waited for 07 to join him and they started down the access hall. He looked up and got a fantastic view of his crotch, since the mech was keeping one foot on either side of him as they walked (which gave him a waddling sort of gait) protectively, doorwings hiked up, like he was afraid the ceiling would fall and crush him, or monsters would appear out of thin air. He was reminded of a documentary he'd seen on emperor penguins.  
"...Do you want to keep carrying me?" He asked awkwardly. He'd never seen him so nervous. He hadn't even known he _could_ look nervous: it didn't square with his personality. Smokescreen bent and clutched him to his chest like a stuffed toy, continuing onwards as if fighting the instinct to flee in the opposite direction.  
  
The hall widened into an atrium. And they caught sight of _them_.  
The failed prototypes. 

Jack's breath caught.   
When 07 had mentioned them, he had thought there would be three, four, five at most. Instead there were at least _twenty_ , lining the walls like suits of armour in a medieval castle, and they were as diverse as imaginable: some had wings, some wheels, some rotor blades, some had extra arms, some had tails and long antennae and multiple pairs of eyes, and ranged in size from 06's to-- big, bigger than _Megatron_ ; the white mech on the left end-- whose back armour split and hung in many interlocking plates like a cape-- had to be over fifty feet tall. They had all kept their colour, and came in every shade of the rainbow.  
And each had a dark, empty hole in the centre of their chassis where their reactor should have been.  
Smokescreen's doorwings quivered.  
  
"You're all right," Jack said, and flinched at how his voice echoed in the tomb-like silence. "We're not here for you, ok?" He carried on in a hushed tone. "And hey, perhaps they weren't even alive to begin with. Maybe they were just... robots. Like the Decepticon troops."  
07 looked down at him, wide eyed, and sent him a short clip of 00 --brighter, younger, with less gray in his hair-- speaking to an unseen audience.  
_"Our newest theory is that the basic requirements for a machine to develop sentience are a processor complex enough to be capable of self-generating and supporting genetic programming, and an energon reactor. That is all."_  
"Wait, the _drones_ are--" he felt sick.  
**"Simpler. No preexisting structure. Built to follow orders, not think."** _Did that make it better or worse?_

  
The mech crossed the room keeping his head down. They entered a small space, where a circular flight of stairs led to a raised platform and a strange concave monitor, which lit up on its own with the initials 'V.S.', and a bright, white hologram of a sphere emerged from its center.  
_"Scanning,"_ a cool female voice said. _"Return: Prime Legate, Special Unit B-07. Access granted. How may I be of assistance?"_  
  
Jack looked at Smokescreen, utterly lost. The mech tilted his head, motioning him to speak.

"Um. The previous Prime told me that if we-- I mean the Special Units Division-- needed help, we had to come here. Now the Decepticons are attacking a city and Megatron beat Optimus--" _and he might be dead_ , he didn't add, "--and we have to stop them. Is there anything you can do?"  
Lights danced across the inverse hemisphere.

 _"Border conditions photographed. Three out of 119045 paths recommended. Option one: arm the To--"_  
**"No,"** Smokescreen cut in. The lights flickered again.  
_"Option two,"_ the voice continued smoothly, _"initiate Operation Teletraan-1."_  
"What's that?"  
_"Operation Teletraan-1 was concieved as the ultimate defence against Quintesson invasion: it will upheave St. Hilary and rain fire upon Earth's enemies, can take on warships anywhere from E to S-class and exterminate interceptors with Eon Cannons."_  
"What about the third?" He demurred. 'Rain fire' and 'exterminate' didn't sound very safe for Washington's inhabitants; and if it was a backup plan for an alien invasion, wasn't it best to leave it as a trump card?

_"Option three: B-01's first upgrade was discarded after being determined too threatening by the EU council, and replaced with the current. It possesses greater power. Do you believe a single Unit capable of turning the tides?"_

Three units had been enough to halt the Decepticons the first time, hadn't they?  
"If Pax fights alongside him... then yes."  
**"Orion Pax shall fight,"** Smokescreen stated without a shadow of doubt.   
_"Then it is decided."_ The wall shifted to reveal another mech's frame, and the ball of light sank and disappeared.  
  
_"Insert the Key, and it shall activate. It is almost complete: it only needs a core."_ And the monitor darkened, leaving the two-- or was it three?-- alone.

"Insert it? What, like... a truck key?" That didn't feel right, somehow. The other B-units didn't have keys, and it looked nothing like any vehicle key he'd ever seen. He glanced at his companion and waved it.  
"Where am I supposed to put this?"  
  
**"Wait, look, follow."** B-07 walked up to the frame; it was-- Jack needed to come up with a word that portrayed just how _big_ some units could be-- had a similar colour scheme to Optimus's, red and blue with added gold accents, and a retractable battle-mask. But where B-01 was tall and lean, this was much heavier, with added shoulder, back and knee spurs, heavy-duty cabling, dampers and cooling grids on the forearms, and what looked like an _ammunition belt_ attached to one elbow. _Greater power, indeed._

  
And Smokescreen just... tipped him into its chest cavity without any forewarning. 

He dropped into the chamber, the ceiling irised shut and he entered a new dimension.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.

He opened his eyes.  
As always, the Drift streched to infinity before him, behind him, above and below him, liquid and dark and featureless; he allowed himself to float, trusting that something would happen, that 01 would show himself sooner or later ('wait', Smokescreen had said). Optimus was big, much bigger than either him or Arcee: perhaps he hadn't noticed his presence yet?  
There was a slight current, as if he were in a big open body of water instead of an isolated chamber, so slight he hadn't even noticed it until it made him bump face-first into something.  
Had he hit the inner wall? It was weird to think of the pocket dimension as having walls. He pushed back, aiming for the center of the cavity where he had dropped.

The wall moved.   
  
The wall _moved_ , creating waves that propelled him back, then something massive and soft and strangely textured brushed against him-- fabric, a cape perhaps? No, that didn't feel quite right... feathers... _wings_?-- pushing him further away and everything went from still to swirling chaos, but _slowly_ , like a weighted tornado. Or a mountainslide.

Not a wall, he realized dimly as the ripples continued to carry him away from that _thing_ , thank god, he had actually _touched_ it, he wasn't _ready_ , that had been 01's _Drift-body._

Smokescreen was reckless and invasive and touchy-feely and brimming with energy, quick to act and react; Arcee was colder, mistrustful, pragmatic and sharp in a way 07 wasn't, and eerily musical. But they had been similar, in a way: they'd been full of thoughts and opinions and colours, and were big, but big in a way that didn't make him feel like an ant, a size that he could still measure himself against.  
  
The Prime was a titan: even this far away he still towered over him. And when he finished turning and his gaze landed on him he felt himself being crushed and burned at the same time, yet he still couldn't percieve _anything_ from him. Complete apathy.  
He choked, struggling to breathe even if doing so set his lungs on fire, grit his teeth, forced himself to stare back into irises as bright and hot as blue suns, and refused to buckle under the weight.  
  
And then those terrible eyes shut and the pressure and heat let off, and 01 returned to being a half-fossilized, dormant leviathan in the dark dimension.

Jack massaged his chest weakly. Was he fine? Or had that been the mech telling him he was not welcome? Surely Pax wasn't greeted like this every time... right?  
He edged a little closer to the bowed figure; he didn't react, so he swam towards the crown-like spikes on his... well, it didn't _exactly_ look like a head, but then it was kind of hard to distinguish anything in the Drift-- tentatively, and extracted the Key again. Two threads connected to it now. One headed away to connect to the V.S. supercomputer; but the other, thin to near transparency, lead up.

The Key unfolded and metamorphosed into a bigger version of itself, an invisible force jerked it out of his grip and it sunk into the base of 01's centre crest. The world exploded.  
  


Jack was ejected into B-07's awaiting hands; the mech ducked for cover. The upgraded frame's auxiliary reactors activated, its flight engines roared to life, four wings unfolded from its jetpack and it took off, flying up and out of the skylight in the volcano's caldera.  
  


  
Back in the shadowed, musty room of the old base, the human and the mech glanced at each other and nodded in mutual agreement.  
They booked it: neither cared to linger a second longer than necessary.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
_**"A signal from St. Helens base. Appeared; disappeared. Course of action?"**_  
Megatron paused. The Bs were in his sights, powerless against him and the dark energon flowing through his veins. But the mountain was calling him and he relished in the thought of burning it down before their eyes: he'd always had a weakness for metaphors.  
And perhaps, that signal Soundwave had picked up was one of their incomplete teammates, or perhaps something else rushing to their aid. Seeing their last hope destroyed would surely break their spirit: he would not show them mercy by killing them now.  
  


**"Soundwave, maintain position. You,"** he gestured to the nearest flyer squad, **"with me. Let us investigate this aberration."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter's a bit of a mixed bag for me. I'm not used to juggling so many characters in so many different locations doing so many different things, jeez. So, there's things I like about it and things I don't, but I've been staring at the half-finished word doc for over a week getting progressively more and more annoyed with it so... whatever. 
> 
> Also, _never again_ am I going to write another chapter this long. This thing was _21 KB_. **_What._**
> 
> Optimus's Drift construct was always going to be the most terrifying of the lot. He's got some religious tones in the series, so I sort of made it look like... an angel. An angel out of Revelations. You know, the kind that makes the "Fear Not" a lot more understandable.
> 
> So back in the beginning, when I was trying to figure out how the kids would become pilots, I already knew that it had to happen by accident. Like, there was no way someone like OP would let children become soldiers.  
> But they would all happen by accident in different ways.
> 
> Take Miko, for instance. Even after wising up a bit, you _know_ she'd still jump at the opportinuty to become a pilot. Jack, on the other hand, wouldn't: he doesn't act as much as he _reacts_ , so the only way for him to become a pilot was for him to do it... to make up for something, or to fix something. Or both. Otherwise, he'd just believe he isn't the right guy for the job, which of course _wouldn't_ make him the right guy for the job. (Funny, that.)  
> Aaand... it would need to be something big.  
> So, the Season Finale.
> 
> And you'll get to see it next chapter, because next chapter is basically only about Jack and Smokescreen.  
> And Megatron.  
> And dead people.


	34. Chapter 34

  
St. Helens. Their old base. The _A-series_ ' base. Of course that would be the first place Megatron would turn to dust, in their mad quest for revenge.

In any other situation Orion would've been-- frankly-- appalled at the lack of security in the Air-Force barracks under red alert, but now he simply made note of it and played it to his advantage: he changed out of his hospital gown into a janitor uniform in a broom closet, passed the first check, hacked a terminal-- firewalls did nothing against someone already inside-- to view the order of deployment, auto-certified his fake identity in the register, hacked another system to give himself clearance, got inside a private locker room where he swapped the uniform for an anti-g suit, exited and passed the second check, all in the space of twenty minutes. He headed towards the jets on the runway.

"Wedge, there has been a last-minute change. I am to take the right end of the Vic."  
"You're fuckin' kidding me," the nearest fighter pilot replied. " _Now_? There's five minutes till takeoff!"  
"I am afraid not," he said pleasantly. "You may complain to our superiors if you wish. I was supposed to be on the next, yet here I am."   
"It's bedlam in here. A couple 'Cons show up, Prime flies off the radar and suddenly high command's running about like a headless chicken," he grumbled. "Fine, bruv, she's all yours. What's your name again?"

Since the other couldn't see his expression behind the helmet, Orion allowed himself a small smile.  
"Danger Savant."  
  


* * *

  
They had reached the base of the mountain when enemy signatures appeared on their HUD.  
  
Smokescreen transformed; Jack landed in his driver's seat.  
_**Go go GO,** _the mech said, revving his engine. Jack looked around himself frantically, then under the steering coloumn. Three pedals. _Something was missing here_.  
"Where are your _gears_?"  
_**!They're right THERE!**_  
He stared at the steering wheel dumbly. Oh, there it was: an extra lever... thingy. _**Paddle.**_  
"You've only got _two_?" His hair stood on end with the static of 07's ruffled-bird indignation.  
_**!I have SIX! IN to gear UP, OUT to gear DOWN. FLOOR ME.**_  
He snorted, and did; the tachometer instantly redlined, he flicked the paddle, forgot the clutch and winced at the mech's yelp and the ensuing _clunk_. Second managed to engage anyway, somehow.   
"Sorry!"

Shadows fell as three Cons passed overhead and looped back.  
_**!FASTER!** _Said the ten-thousand horsepower race-car to the guy who hadn't driven since getting his licence. From the sounds it made he was pretty sure he was butchering his transmission, but Smokescreen grit his teeth and bore with it.  
An eradicon fired at them; Jack drove in a zig-zag evasive maneuver-- he'd read somewhere that planes had a harder time targeting grounded objects-- which halfways worked and halfways sent them fishtailing down the road.   
(Smokescreen's controls were stupidly sensitive.)  
_**You suck,** _the bot cheerfully informed him, and conveyed the impression of reeds swaying in a storm. _**Don't overcorrect, just roll with the punches. Let the attacks themselves direct you.**_

  
He entered a tunnel, veered them off onto a service lane that GPS assured connected to the interstate, in hopes of shaking their tail, and shifted up another gear.  
_**You're doing more than 60,** _B-07 pointed out with a smug I-told-you-so air. Jack glanced at the dash and felt a fresh stab of alarm.  
They were almost at _100_.

But it didn't feel like it: they glided over the asphalt, soft orange lights streaked past, and he could barely sense any vibration; it was as if they weren't moving at all, suspended in quiet limbo. Smokescreen's engine purred along low in fourth, nowhere near strain.  
This was _easy_ for him, he realized. Of course it was: the second generation had been built to be a match for the first, who were mostly _fliers_. B-07 could more than _double_ their current speed.

"Wow," Jack muttered, only half-registering his own words, "you're amazing."  
Smokescreen squirmed. _**?I am, aren't I?**_

  
The tunnel opened to a bridge over a gorge; the second natural light flooded the cab, a Decepticon drone kamikaze'd straight into a pier and blew up, taking half the supporting structure with it. 

Jack stomped on the brakes-- nearly sending them into another uncontrolled spin-- and suffered a dizzy spell when 07 stood and skidded to a halt on their heels and the dark dimension overtook: the setting sun lightened to yellow, the mountains and sky went electric blue and Smokescreen's Drift construct rose behind him too, a twisting, coiling stygian shade somehow darker than the blackest black of his backdrop and more solid than his preferred form. Jack imagined the vague outline of antlers branching out above his head. Looking down at his hands, their image overlapped with Smokescreen's gauntlets, almost as if he was wearing him as armour.   
**COMBAT PROTOCOLS: INITIATED.**  
  


The world slowed down. Dust cleared. They tracked the air currents from the explosion, calculated the 'Con's trajectory and the estimated time it would take for its team to notice and trace the signal and leapt out of the way when a second eradicon dive-bombed them. And the fight began.

The original 07's fighting style centered around misdirection, fakeouts, using an opponent's strength against them, capitalizing on their greater stamina to tire them out, tantalizing and taunting them by staying just out of reach. What Jack had been taught, since the fateful attack two years before, was to deflect, evade and wait for the right moment to strike with the highest economy of movement, while drawing the least amount of attention.   
One was flashy, the other subtle.   
They met somewhere in the middle.

They took on the five remaining squad members with forearms half transformed into double-bladed daggers and foreign motor memory: as long as Jack didn't think about it too hard, their bodies went through the right motions, ducking here, stabbing there, his own instincts and two years of June hammering spatial awareness into him surfacing to guide them into a dodge and Smokescreen underneath it all, with eyes in the back of their head and more senses than humans could fathom, analyzing the battlefield and shouting warnings whenever both his and the ghost pilot's gut reactions failed.   
And somehow, despite having zero training, it _worked_. It was _exhilerating_.

Neither noticed when they dipped into synch, or how the rate crept higher as the fight went on, until a single drone was left, cornered, with broken wings.

Smokescreen-- for it was Smokescreen, not Jack-- noticed it retreat and grinned, tasting victory.  
If he'd opted to just shoot it and be done with it, perhaps nothing would have happened. But Smokescreen-- because the Bs weren't malevolent, but they weren't human either-- felt the curious, playful, cat-like urge to give it a slim hope of survival, switched a blade for a blaster and aimed down instead, lighting the energon puddle at its feet on fire.

 **"To hot for ya, 'Con?"** He laughed, and continued laughing even as it screeched and jumped off the side of the bridge, failed to transform and fell to its death--  
  
A crack echoed across the Drift.  
  


  
Up on top of the hill, Megatron saw the unit freeze and smirked.  
**"It appears that someone is feeling... divided."**  
  


* * *

  
Pulling gs so soon after Toxin exposure wasn't something Orion would recommend to anyone-- doing AGSM proved particularly uncomfortable-- but without a groundbridge, there wasn't any other way to get to Washington in time.  
He plotted a course on the jet's nav computer while cruising at supersonic speed, set it to autopilot and, as they neared their target, decelerated in preparation; proximity warnings blared as he fell behind formation and they scattered, but he remained steady.   
The Nemesis emerged from low-hanging clouds at twelve o' clock. A shiny, red-and-blue figure ducked into view. Orion ejected himself from the cockpit and Optimus's body did a barrel roll to catch him midair in his antechamber, right as the plane and its explosive cargo flew straight into the flagship's communications tower and obliterated it.

"Where's your other frame?" He asked once the mech had shut his chestplates again, leaning against his soft interior for support, and tore off his helmet. B-01 sent him a hazy vision of Bryce's last moments and blasted off in that direction. His commlink crackled.

 _ **"**_ **Boss** _ **!?" "01!"**_  
"04, 06," he replied. "What's your status?"  
_**"Alive, for the moment,"** _Arcee replied drolly, relief colouring her tone. _**"It's good to hear your voice, Orion."**_  
_**"Could use some help down here,"** _Bulkhead added. _**"Think that unit you miracled up might lend us a hand?"**_  
"I am on my way. And you have 06 to thank. Arcee, I apologize if my request was vague: you did an excellent job."  
There was a pause.

_**"What request?"** _  
  


* * *

  
The synch-break sent them reeling. Smokescreen, being far more used to it, recovered first and grasped the front of Jack's sweater.   
**?Why did you stop? !It was working!**  
" _Why_? You told me that thing's alive and you _toyed_ with it!"  
**?So?** He asked, honestly puzzled. The human recoiled.

  
His rebuttal was drowned out by the * _chang clank clung_ * of a transformation sequence, and A-01 landed where the drone had been moments before.

 **"B-07. 'Smokescreen', is it? I do not believe we have met."** Oh _hell_ no. He activated Phase Shifting to escape decapitation, and turned back into the mountain.  
**Take the road away from St. Hilary. We can't lead him there.**  
"We can't take _any_ road," Jack countered. "We have to stay underground, otherwise he'll just follow us from above." And their intangibility had a time limit: staying in the tunnels was their best bet.   
They emerged in an adiacent passage. A-01's footsteps sounded near, so they padded across to hop back into the rock.  
  


**"Would you like to hear a tale, 07? I am certain you'll find it most illuminating,"** Megatron called from around the corner. He didn't. A-01 started to talk anyway.

 **"Many years ago, an alien race had their sights on Earth: they seeked to mine its core and build a colony its shell, like they had done with many other planets. For this to happen, all organic life on the surface would have to be wiped out."**  
**"The Quintessons-- that was their name-- possessed powerful technology. But that wasn't their only strength: they were also much bigger than humans, or any animal then known. How did humanity strike back? They built spaceships, some even miles in length, and armies to man them."**  
**"They soon realized that that was not enough. Their soldiers needed to be larger, stronger, _deadlier_. So they created something new. Something truly... inspired: eight mechanical lifeforms that could house a _human soul_."**  
**"But there was one little problem: the transfer could only go one way. The humans had selected eight candidates for the process, the best of the best, but they feared they would not accept if they knew the truth. So they never told them."**  
**"These chimeras were sent far into space; they fought the humans' war, and won. When the war was over, they wanted to return. Do you want to know what the humans said, 07?"** He wanted him to _shut up._

**"They said _no_. See, they had grown to fear their creations, their might, their ruthlessness. And since the threat was gone, they had no use for them anymore: they shut the portal to Earth. Out of sight, out of mind. But they performed one last act before doing so."**  
**"They slew their original bodies and burned them to ash in St. Hilary. It was a calculated move: they wanted to break them completely."**

**"But they did not break. The humans never believed them capable of returning to Earth with the means they had, but they miscalculated. And now we are here."**

A-01's purplish-red eyes cast violent hues on the walls. In the top left corner of their vision, an orange battery icon appeared. Oh _no_.  
Smokescreen's tentacles looped under his arms and nudged him forward.  
**Move. Jack, _move_. Don't listen: Decepticons always lie.**  
He felt the mech drape over his shoulders and ears, trying to muffle the A-unit's hypnotizing voice and get him to synch again. The crack ached still.  
  


**"Do you believe this unfortunate, 07? Do you pity us, distantly? Do you think that humans have learned their lesson, that this does not apply to you?"** Megatron chuckled.  
**"They haven't. I admit, it is quite tasteful on the surface. Instead of sacrificing their own this time, they created their own sheep to slaughter. Ingenious. They even made them so well they _want_ to be sacrificed."**  
  
**"And you call _us_ cruel."**

"Is that true?" Jack whispered. B-07 stiffened.  
**?What would you have done, in their place?** He asked in return, after a long pause.  
"So it _is_ true."  
**It's not. In the beginning, they didn't know. 00 and Prime are correcting it now, but we have for much longer.  
**Megatron tilted his head, mentally counting down.

 **"Are you proud, 07?"** A-01 said softly. **"Are you truly unfaltering in the belief that you are doing the right thing?"**

His limbs locked.  
**Jack. Decepticons always lie.** Hadn't they been lied to, in the beginning?   
_**Decepticons always lie.**_  
The battery light turned red.   
  


Smokescreen took control of their legs and jumped out of the wall and _through_ A-01 and turned into the nearest tunnel to escape, but the A-unit had been expecting that: he sprang to block their only exit. Their battery died and intangibility flickered off.

 **"So the audience finally makes their appearance."** B-07, mirroring the eradicon, took a shaky step back before bracing himself.  
**"You don't scare me, lord _bucket-head_ ,"** Jack felt his mouth form.   
Megatron threw his head back and laughed; he grabbed them by the neck and dragged them out, back onto the wrecked bridge, and unsheathed a sword hidden under his fusion cannon.  
  


**"Farewell, Smokescreen."** The blade swung down--  
  
  


\--The sound of jets rang down the chasm. A-01's grip faltered; he diverted his gaze, his eyes widened and went slightly skewed--

They dropped, and their vision was filled with primary colours. As the bridge fell away, they caught the split-second view of a winged Optimus Prime in full threat display, roaring while he punched his counterpart in the face.  
Then their doorwings hit the water-- at least they got luckier than the drone-- and the barrage of pain turned everything black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Combat protocols: activated.  
> I had both [Bombing Mission](https://youtu.be/ms29zYAGoqs) and [Try This](https://youtu.be/ggqI-HH8yXc) playing in my head during most of this chapter, both of which I can totally imagine as 07's theme. 
> 
> (Semi) exposition chapter part 3, featuring Megatron and his actually-kinda-terrifing shark grin. Decepticons are called that for a reason, and I feel that A-01 would sniff out weakness and exploit it with ease.
> 
> 'Where are your _gears_?' -->Everyone's reaction to seeing a sequential shifter for the first time.
> 
> Yes, the carformers in this story have sequential gearboxes. Why? I dunno.  
> Sequential works in a way thar you don't actually have to use the clutch to change gears (something you can actually do with old H-patterns as well, provided you are going at the right speed). With a good gearbox and an experienced pilot, you don't even have to take your foot off the _accelerator_.  
> Or course, they tend to make hellish whining noises 'cause of their straight teeth, so the units probably have helical-geared sequentials (which don't actually exist, but from what I've learned there's no reason they _can't_.)
> 
> I've noticed how when people write Smokescreen, they almost invariably leave out the fact that despite being a cinnamon roll, he's got a pretty cavalier attitude when it comes to slaying 'Cons. I mean, we're talking about the guy that joked while unleashing a weapon of mass destruction on his enemies that works by sucking out your _soul. Yeah._ So I mean, I couldn't NOT show his darker side in here somewhere.
> 
> Several fun facts about the story: I originally had a counter on the mechs' HUDs that measured synchronization rate, that would tick up or down in a very cool and dramatic way _a-la_ Mob-Psycho-100, but in the end I decided it made narration too clunky and cliche'd so I junked it.  
> Fun fact #2 is that in the begining, when I was still deciding the pilot/mech pairs, I briefly considered pairing Smokescreen with _Miko_ and Jack with Arcee, except a) I wanted June to be a pilot as well and b) Smokey and Miko in cahoots would likely make Earth self-destruct or something, amongst other things.
> 
> I think there will be one more Finale chapter after this, where Jack FINALLY (after 70k+ words and 35 chapters) becomes the 07 pilot. Yaaaaaaaay. I actually have a lot of that chaper done, but this one was a pain to write, so it won't come anytime soon.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: crossing-over is not fun. It's mind-screwy.

Jack awoke-- or rather, gradually slipped back into awareness-- to an icy, phantom gale howling just outside his little bubble of calm, on the edge of a void which a jagged cliff overlooked: the crack had widened.  
**! _Jack_!** It screamed, and he stared down at Smokescreen's construct.

The poor mech was so drawn he was almost two-dimensional, with tattered ribbons trailing off him everywhere: he both looked and felt like a weather-beaten kite stuck in a tree. The Drift seemed to get clearer each time he entered it.  
"What happened?"  
**Dropped, hit, blacked out.**  
"R'you ok?" The dead battery icon still floated above his head-- motionless and sinisterly red in the stormy mindscape-- but no other warnings or error codes had joined it that he could see.   
Oh, the sensory panels. He grimaced.

The teen stretched his consciousness out, trying to see outside the bot's enclosure, but all he could sense, seemingly, was more Drift-- cloudy black water-- until their thumb brushed against the slimy, rounded shape of a pebble on the river bottom. How long had they been down there?  
He tried to get up, but their arms were weak and his coordination was off and it was hard to concentrate on the real world with so much happening inside: they fell back into the mud.

"Smokescreen?" Jack asked, wondering why he wasn't doing anything to help.  
07 coalesced, drawing in his feelers, and whined. He sounded _wretched_.  
"Is it your doorwings? Are they hurting?" Could he run a diagnostic? If it was a hardware problem, there wasn't much he could do: they'd have to get him to the 00s somehow.   
**Yes. No. No correlation.** A pause. **We're borderlining.**  
It occurred to him that he wasn't sure which way was up: from his perspective, he was on the edge looking down at Smokescreen, but it could easily be the other way around.   
  


The not-air stilled, 07 gathered himself and surged up in a pillar.  
**?Why did you choose to believe _him_?** He was positive he wasn't imagining the antlers this time: at that distance, they could easily skewer him if the mech so desired.  
He opened his mouth. Closed it.  
**A-01 aimed to distract, unbalance, delay, _break_. Successful. You listened.**  
"You _always_ told me to listen."  
**Not to _lies_.**  
"Well how am I supposed to know?" He nearly shouted. "I just want to do the right thing," he said miserably, staring dully at 07's Drift impression; it looked like a jellyfish now. "But it's so hard."

**So quick to think us helpless. We are powerful. And our drive is stronger than you could _ever_ concieve.**

"But it's all artificial. It's not real."  
**?Not real? !?Not REAL?! !There's _nothing_ I wouldn't do for you!** Smokescreen spat. **Any of the Team, flesh AND metal. !Nothing! !?And you, _unbonded_ , say it's not REAL?! **  
He wrapped himself around his body in one fluid, rippling motion, forcing his gaze ahead. 

**The code only prevailed until my First,** he said, softly, dangerously. **I gave some of myself, but he did too. Willingly. That's when I chose. It goes both ways.**  
And yet he could still sense the human's doubt. A whiplike feeler slithered around his neck and hung there.

 **I could kill you, you know,** he whispered in his ear. Jack tensed. _But he'd thought_ \-- **?Why do you have prescribed paths in home-base? ?Why is swift-hungry-teeth-and-claws in suspended slumber? ?Why are you _afraid_?**  
"But only by accident," he whispered back. "Never on purpose."  
**Yes,** Smokescreen agreed. **You are frangible, and tiny. There are many ways I could kill you by accident. But I think--** the noose tightened, enough that Jack started having to fight for breath **\--that if I really, _really_ wanted, I could kill you on purpose too. **  
  
And somehow, despite his statement, despite being _strangled_ , all he could feel was relief. Jesus, what was _wrong_ with him?   
  


The construct flickered in surprise, let go and oozed back into the crack; breathing didn't come any easier: the not-air of the Drift had gone stale. He wondered, distantly, how Smokescreen would feel if he died inside of him. 

He was aware of B-07's increasingly desperate attempts to pull free of the layer of sludge in the riverbed; the surface was perhaps twenty feet above their head, and he would've been hard-pressed to climb up the steep sides even without a dead battery and a partialized alternator, given his heavy metallic frame.

It might have turned out fine. Jack stepped towards the edge anyway.  
**Take the jump,** B-07 urged, far down the well. A thin little arm started to creep up the precipice, paused near the top and drew back into his quicksilver mass. **Do it for amity. Do it for the thrill. Do it for a lark. Anything.**  
_(But only if you believe it right,_ came the faint undertone. _It doesn't have to be your torch to bear.)_  
_(If you accept, there is no going back.)_  
_(There can always be another.)_

The human reached down.  
( _"A handshake? That's it? No blood pact or kiss of death or whatever?_ Really _?"_ )

  
  
The translucent silhouette of the first 07 stood with him on the cliff, bent against the wind, dim and frail and dipped in his own blood; the red drowned out the vivid colours of his pilot suit.

His hair was still just as bright.

 _"So we meet again. Guess I could've done better, huh?"_ He laughed self-deprecatingly, but when he met his gaze his eyes were filled with resolution.  
_"You will. Just keep him out of trouble, enough'll find you as it is. God knows I never managed..."_ He straightened, the blood faded and he adressed the spectral sea-monster with a rueful tone.  
_"You could use the forethought."_

  
  
  
At the bottom of the river, 07 looked at his/their hands: blasters were fueled directly with raw energon, bypassing much of a mech's power-plant...   
He aimed downwards, and opened a vein.

The water superheated, expanded, _exploded_ \-- some of it must have scinded into its base components-- and propelled him straight out of the river and into Optimus's chest. He scrabbled at the slick surface like a wet cat in a bathtub before he registered the arm under his doorwings and went limp, coughing and expelling water out of his vents; the rush of fresh air left him lightheaded.

B-01 glanced towards their incoming adversary, unclipped a golden hilt from his back and raised it above his head. A white plasma blade blazed to life.  
**"Megatron,"** he intoned, **" _begone_." **

And he sliced the warlord's cannon arm clean off.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
The Prime flew back towards Seattle carrying 07. Megatron had fled at his first opportunity, spitting venom, no doubt to regroup with his army; the other combatant B-units were still fighting, but he was positive the Decepticons would retreat upon learning the news of their leader's defeat-- though it might come delayed, since he'd rendered their communictions tower unserviceable and A-01 would be reluctant to fall back. Then they'd have to scour the area for enemies, traps and explosive devices, help the with the excavation and search-and-retrieval, scan for dangerous levels of radiation, transplant his core into his new body-- their work was far from done.   
But, hopefully, they'd get a reprieve from battle in the following days.

B-07 jolted when they hit some turbulence, opened one eye and groaned. His colours had come in over the past quarter hour: they'd already started when he'd first seen him, and by now they'd almost finished.   
**"...Is it over?"**  
**"It's over,"** Optimus said warmly. **"Welcome to the team, 07. Concentrate on crossing-over now, I shall get you back to base safely. Good job."** He was rewarded with a lopsided 100-watt grin.  
**"He he he... 01's _proud_ of me." **  
But then his face fell, glee replaced with shame.  
**"I don't really deserve it, though. I was supposed to tell 06, but... I forgot. I let you down."**

A couple of seconds passed with the silence filled only by the roar of the flightframe's engines. Then 01 pulled him flush against his chest and a massive hand came up to cup his head.  
**"Jack?"**  
**"Meh... ish,"** Smokescreen replied, smooshing his nasal ridge into a seam. He could feel a migraine coming on, the first sign of the crossing-over happening, and he didn't _want_ to. 

More silence. Fearing reprimand, the smaller mech wiggled to see Optimus's expression; his battle-mask was up, so he didn't glean much of anything.  
**"...Optimus? Did I do wrong? I know I acted rashly... I could've given the Key to someone else,"** he realized. If he could've gotten anyone to listen to him, that is. In restrospect, he'd been pretty dumb. 

**" _No_. No, you didn't do wrong."** One only needed the Key to activate Vector Sigma, but they'd likely only gotten there in time thanks to Smokescreen and Jack's quick thinking. And instead of unleashing Project Teletraan, as he had intended when he'd handed him the Key, they'd made B-01 stay alive.  
Countless lives had been lost on this day: he'd _failed_ them.   
_But it could have been so much worse._

 **"You may have saved us all."**  
  
Never had words tasted more bitter on his tongue.  
  


* * *

  
Smokescreen's ghost memory hadn't lied: crossing-over _sucked_.   
Passing through the multicoloured groundbridge made him physically ill: every bright, swirling shade impacted their-- _their_ , they were separating again-- retinas even through shut eyelids, unloading data packets that should've been incompatible but _weren't._ Like taste. And they all tasted revolting and wrong, like turkey basted in Powerade.

Optimus-- or perhaps Ratchet, he couldn't tell-- dragged them the final steps to their bay, propped them against their dock and extracted their human half when they finally brought themselves to unsynch.  
"Why'zzit feel so bleah," Jack asked the ceiling.  
**"Part of your mind is breaking off and reassembling to be integrated with your mech's, and the same is happening to him,"** 00 told him neutrally. **"It's not supposed to be enjoyable."**   
Crossing-over had actually _killed_ pilots before, but he didn't need to know that.  
  


06 stormed in only a couple minutes later, fulminated 01 with a look and drew an arm-blade.  
**"01. You said. You _said_ it didn't have to be either of us. And I trusted you."**  
The Prime bowed his head.  
**"I did."**  
**"Then _stop_ it. I told you once and I'll tell you again: you're getting Jack over my _dead body_. I was _there_ ,"** she snarled, **"back in Mission City, when the Decepticons came. I saw what happened to the last 07. I'm not letting the same happen to my _son_."**  
**"We can't stop it,"** 00 cut in. **" _No one_ can. We told you in the beginning, don't you remember?"**

He wished they'd stop talking. He'd gotten to the house somehow; the floor tiles were blessedly cool against his cheek, but they trasmitted vibrations from all the people walking around and were painfully white. The room was painfully white. A miniature sun burned in his chest. Some kind soul noticed his suffering and turned off the light.   
  


An indeterminate amount of time later, June came in, felt his forehead and uttered a soft curse.  
"Jack, listen. B-07 is an infiltrator, that's why your senses are heightened." She turned to whisper something to an unseen person behind her. The esses shot through his skull like mattress needles.  
"I'm going to run a bath to bring your fever down. You can't take any medication during this time: it might interfere and make it worse."  
A foreign memory played back.

_"Interesting. Yeah, I'll take it. Why not?"_

_[...]_

_"You know you can't come, there's like a bazillion kids there. One glimpse of your cool self and they'll be all over you. Think about it: germ-infested fingerprints on your windshield. Yuck. And they're_ nosy _."_  
_[...]_  
_"It's not just here. It's everywhere. Leaks everywhere: the whole network's compromised. I need backup. This place is a_ nuclear bomb _waiting to blow..." he trailed off._  
_"...Biggest undocumented reserve I've ever seen."_  
_[SWITCH]_  
_"All right, all right, you got me. I'm not a plumber. I'm actually--" a dramatic pause "--a private investigator! ...What's with that face? You don't believe me?"_  
_[SWITCH]_  
_"A'ight. About that thing I said. Er, forget it. See, I'm in somewhat of a pickle..."_  
_[SWITCH]_

  
He lay back and looked at the ceiling, turned a dark buff from the warm glow in the common room and the green low-lights outside, with water up to his chin. Smokescreen's tiny hand things squiggled in his far peripheral vision; he wasn't sure how he was able to see them at all, since they didn't actually exist.   
His head hurt.

_"Hey kid. Kid. We'll be all right: I've got a friend coming. Just gotta hang tight."_

_"...But you know, in the meantime... you think you could do me a favour? He might not be able to find us... here, take this. Climb up and wave it around, 'k?"_  
_"Oh, don't be such a baby. D'you know how many times_ I've _broken something? ...Huh? I told you, I'm peachy. Now go."_  
_[SWITCH]  
_  
_[...]_

 _He knew the exact moment he slipped away, when a piece of him died; a wail built in his core and burst.  
  
_ _~~06~~ ~~Mom~~ June looked looked up at him, tired, and asked "Do you want to hold him? He's still warm."  
_  
_[...]_

_[SWITCH]_

When he reopened his eyes, his vision had gone blurry. He turned, hung over the side of the tub and heaved; watery bile splattered on the floor. _Gross_. Oh god there was more.   
_**I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.**_  
"'S not... not your fault," he managed once the shakes abated, wiped his chin on his shirt sleeve and sank back. That's what made it scary, really: he could _feel_ Smokescreen being careful as he excised a piece of his mind, bit by bit, to make room for himself, and brought it down the link to anchor it on the other end. How much would it hurt if he _wasn't_?  
  
It got turbid, darker, with flashes of crimson: he skinned his predecessor, turned him into a suit and his head into a balloon, which sank instead of flying away; somewhere up above, a magpie laughed. The suit became a scarf and strangled them.  
Three shades waited at the bottom of a well.

His head dropped underwater; he jerked it back out. He was swarmed by anxious tendrils.  
_**Get up. Up.** _He groaned. _**UP.**_  
He got up. He stepped out of the bath on shaky legs, dripping water everywhere; the world spun.  
_**Strip.** _He obeyed, not having the mental capacity to make a single smartass comment (the first would've been so disappointed in him), left his clothes in a sodden pile, floated to a bedroom and pulled the covers off the bed.  
_**No blanket. Just the sheets,** _Smokescreen said apologetically. Right. Wool blanket. Itchy, woven, dyed. Torture. 

  
He dragged the sheet to the closet, shut the door, and rode out the rest of the crossing-over curled up in a ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> So Jack, after 35 chapters, has finally become a pilot.  
> [Breath of Death](https://youtu.be/Mft6RtQoGAk) to set the tone.
> 
> This is basically the end of the S1 finale, so I am going to be stopping here for a REALLY LONG TIME. Possibly forever. Just so you're warned. Honestly, when I started this story I wasn't even expecting to get this far, so kudos to me I suppose.
> 
> Like Ch. 33, there's things I like about this chapter and things I don't, except it's more like I love them and I hate them. More extreme. I'm really bad at writing any kind of angst, I think, so, uh, I apologize if the language in this chapter is too flowery or something. It was a pain to write.  
> I wanted the whole 'Jack becoming 07' thing to involve _water_ somehow, right from the beginning. I don't know why, it felt right. That's why there so much of it in this chapter. Also, fun fact, the "do it for a lark" dialogue was one of the first things I wrote for this AU, once I had the major plot points down XD.


	36. Chapter 36

Silas woke up in cold sweat, still hearing that fluttering, whispering _presence_ \--  
_**\--it's good that you killed me.**_  
"Shut _up_ ," he snarled. His vehemency rang hollow in the underground bunker's windowless room.  
He got up, strode past the night guards up to the ground floor and pounded feverishly on the Doctor's door. 

"What do you want," the man demanded crankily an entire ten minutes later, not awake enough for formalities. Silas barely noticed anyway.  
"Increase the doseage."  
He blinked sleep out of his eyes; the words took a second to register.  
" _Again_?" He quailed under the other's expression. "Of course, I'll see what I can do in the morning--"  
"Not in the morning. _Now_."  
He blinked again, more aware. The MECH leader's eyes were bloodshot.  
"Sir, according to my calculations, the mixture is already at the highest possible compound-to-energon ratio. Any higher and there will be difficulties keeping the chain reaction stable."  
"Find a way. And do it _quickly_." 

He turned on his heel, leaving the Doctor alone in the corridor. Wondering.  
  
  


* * *

  
His fever broke in the early hours of the morning; later on, when the migraine had died down to something manageable, colours didn't make him throw up, sounds didn't split his skull in two and he couldn't feel the minute imperfections of every surface he ran his fingertips across, Jack crawled out from his nest and swayed towards the bathroom again like a newborn deer.   
Once he felt human enough to brave the outside world, he emerged from the house, spent a minute staring blankly at the bay doors on the wrong side of the room before remembering he wasn't in 06's anymore, and turned towards the dock.   
He nearly suffered an epileptic fit.   
  
He'd never actually _seen_ Smokescreen's paintjob: when he'd first met him in Mission City his pilot had already been dead, and he'd been as out of it as a balcony by the time Optimus had gotten them back to base; the events that followed were nothing but a bright, painful blur. But, logically, he'd expected it to be... dull. Nondescript. Something that could easily blend into the background, like shades of brown or gray, possibly in a camo pattern. He was supposed to be a robot ninja, after all. You know, _subtle_?  
  
It wasn't.  
The blue would have almost been okay, if it had stopped there. But then there was the yellow. Sunflower blotches and pinstripes everywhere, to complement his biolights. And a dazzling white band down his chest complete with red retroreflectors, because why not. And of course (just in case all the above wasn't enough), the _screaming double sevens_ on his doorwings, on a _checkered flag background_. Dear God, _why_. 

The 'Bot in question had woken up during his horrified perusal, and, somewhere in the section of his mind that wasn't _his_ anymore, was shedding spazzy alien notice-me-senpai/bird-of-paradise-courtship-dance _somethings_ ; even in his _brain_ he was impossible to ignore!  
_**I'm just that good,** _the Christmas tree said smugly.   
The headache came back with vengeance. He got the intense desire to hurl something, preferably at the stupid primary colour explosion.

Or, he could just look at something less complicated. Like his shirt. Or nothing at all, if he closed his eyes.

From that dark extraneous corner, Smokescreen calmed down and extended a cool, pacifying tentacle; it wrapped around his mind, or perhaps his Drift-self (wherever it resided when he wasn't in his-- _his_!-- mech), and it actually did help brake the incoming freight train of sensations. He patted it gratefully. Of course, Smokescreen took that as invitation to envelop him with the things, because apparently he was now linked to some sort of overly affectionate squid. (Then he remembered the drone. _Selectively_ affectionate, right.)  
  
  


The base appeared deserted: the lower rooms in 07's quarters had been cleared out, and all the bay doors lining the corridor were closed. He hopped in front of 06's to open them, saw that Arcee was absent and quashed his dismay. Perhaps someone else was around.

All the other rooms were either locked or empty, though, except for 03's and Bumblebee's (the mech chirred a greeting before powering back down), so when he ambled into the medbay it was almost a surprise to find both 00s there, face to face and looking to be in deep conversation.

Abruptly, Combs turned away from Ratchet and snapped his fingers at him. He jumped.  
"You. Synch."  
"Wha-- huh? Right here?" Jack asked, taken aback: he hadn't thought he'd even noticed his entrance.  
"Yes, here. No, don't physically enter the Drift," he added as he made to retrace his steps towards the 07 bay, "B-07's linked to you wherever you go now, distance doesn't matter. Just reach out with your mind."  
Reach out? Like Smokescreen had done before? He unconsciously closed his eyes and frowned as he searched for the alien fragment in his brain, trying to visualize their connection. It was slippery, like his very search was warping and pushing it out of range.

"Sometime today would be nice," the orange-and-white pilot snarked.

Reeds on the shore. Coastal tree-lines shaped by the wind. Fish figured in there too, he was sure: something about areodinamics.  
A faint light appeared and the trail opened before him, rich navy instead of 06's ultramarine blue; feeling his touch, his mech rose at its other end and a shining bead of _**interrogative** _flickered down to sink in his chest.   
_I don't know,_ he thought, trying to encapsulate it with a shrug. _00 asked._  
_**B-00 doubts,**_ Smokescreen sent back. This packet stung a little. _**B-00 must scope everything, otherwise it is prone to failure. So B-00**_ **thinks** _ **. Annoyance.**_  
  


"Ratchet," Combs muttered, shaking him out of his trance.  
**"78%,"** B-00 replied. There was a pause.

"Well it's not situational, then," 00 said. It was impossible to read his mood.  
"What isn't?" The lighting in the medbay had gone weird for a second and his eyes felt hot. He wondered if they'd started glowing.  
The pilot sighed.  
"Your synchronization rate. Even while resting in a moderately safe environment, it's still higher than anything the cadets ever managed. Congratulations. Looks like it does run in the family after all--" He cut himself short, stared at his feet and swore.

"Oh, _damn_ it all. Of course it's higher, you would've needed a full synch to trigger this absolute _shitstorm_." He straightened, pushed up his glasses and faced him fully. "Excuse my French. 07--" Jack snuck a glance behind his shoulder to search for the B-unit, only to realize, belatedly, that Combs was referring to _him_ "--do you know what you've _done_? Hell will freeze over before your stupid mech'll let anyone else pilot him now!"  
  
A bead connected with a 'damn straight' feel. 00 ground his teeth and strode closer. "Of all the inane, moronic, _brain-dead_ , _irresponsible_ ideas--" each adjective was punctuated with a harsh poke to his sternum "--do you know what this stunt of yours will cost us? US Army high command's already on the warpath, and that's just from hearing that two years of planning have been dumped in the shitter. They don't know you're a _seventeen year-old civilian_." His face fell and he deflated.  
  
  
"God," he muttered, and wandered back to where Ratchet was squinting at him perplexedly.

"I'm not sorry," Jack called after him. "I mean, I'm sorry for becoming a pilot. If I could go back, I'd remember to tell 06, or I would try to think of something else. But I'm not sorry I brought the Key to St. Hilary." Of this, at least, he was sure.

"Of course you're not," Combs said tiredly. "You're 07. You pull this crap all the damn time. Just..." The aged pilot nodded down the corridor. "You've got someone who really, really cares about you. And a good head on your shoulders. Please, whatever you do, don't let it kill you this time. _Please_." 

  
  
He headed for the door to the workshop. 

"Wait...! The first 07. What was his name?" 00 paused.  
"You still remember him? You must've only met once."  
"Twice." Of course he remembered the guy that introduced him to the world of humongous mechs and kaijus and space battles, how could he _not_?

"North," Combs answered, eventually. "Nolan North. I'd say I'm surprised Smokescreen didn't tell you, except they never speak of their dead that way. Did you see him?"  
He frowned, not understanding, then jerked his head up to meet his gaze.   
"You know?"   
"I did help build them," 00 said, some of his usual wry tone returning. "I know how the Drift works. You do understand what we mean by 'crossing-over', right? The forming of the link. Every time a pilot dies, of piece of the mechs, the piece that crossed over, dies as well. But, while a part of them lodges into your mind to anchor the connection on your end, the opposite is also true."

Arcee's shades waiting at the bottom of the well. When the pilots talked about ghosts, they meant it _literally_.

"You might want to search 07's database if you're curious. I'm certain you'll turn up a couple pictures at least."  
  


_____________________  
  


The others still hadn't returned, so (after poking around the maintenance bay for the necessary equipment) Jack went back to 07's bay with the intention of cleaning up his mess. When he crossed the threshold, his attention was drawn, once again, to the bot, though not for his paintjob this time: Smokescreen was doing a little in-place shimmy like had had ants in his engine block. Jack stared.

"...What are you doing?"  
_**River everywhere. In my guns. Dried. Now it's river**_ **residue** _ **.**_  
Why did he have to phrase it that way.  
"Can't you wash it off?"   
_**No reach.**_  
"Seems like a poor design choice," the teen mumbled as he climbed up the steps to the catwalk.  
_**I wasn't engineered for underwater activities,** _07 complained. His doorwings perked up hopefully. _**?Help?**_

Jack squinted at his forearms.  
"What would you want me to do?"   
In his mind, the mech shaped himself into an arrow pointing at the scrub brush he'd been intending to use for the bathroom, formed a blaster and converged the tip back to the muzzle. Did he actually--

"Nope. Nuh uh. Forget it," Jack deadpanned, backpedalling into the banister.  
_**But it's in my**_ **seams** _ **.**_  
"You fire _laser beams_ out of those things!"  
_**!I won't while you're inside!** _One could practically taste the 'duh' in his tone; he even had the gall to sound _affronted_.  
"That's not-- _no_. I'm not going in there. What if there's a leak?" The puffed-up pigeon look made its reappearance.  
_**I don't**_ **leak** _ **.**_ His panels tilted down piteously. _**?Please?** _Urgh.

"I better not get radiation poisoning from this," he muttered as he climbed into the opening with brush, bucket and cleanser. The smooth, conical surface was warmed by the electricity running underneath; it felt like walking into a dragon's maw.  
No blue-hot plasma smote him into oblivion, so he pulled out a rag and went to work on the outermost seam (which was, in fact, coated with a mucky film).  
_**?See? I told you, it's fineeEE--**_  
  
  


Arcee had barely set foot into the hangar when sharp, tangy panic swamped the room, followed by a bloodcurdling _screech_. She nearly bowled herself over as she scrambled across the corridor towards the source--

\--which turned out to be B-07, who was dancing the tarantella in his dock while Jack hung halfways out of his blaster, thrashing and kicking and half-synched, if the glow in his eyes was anything to go by. The 'Bot was somehow succeeding in keeping his arm level throughout their lively performance, even when Jack punted something down his barrel hard enough for the clang to be audible over their laughter-- she was _guessing_ it was laughter and not tortured screams, even if the sounds were rather ambiguous.  
06 blinked, lowered her weapon and let June step out onto the platform; the teen (now upside-down) made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a sob and drew a shaky breath.  
"Make us _sto-o-oop_ ," he pleaded, tears running down his face, before Smokescreen twitched and set them off again. _**Bad plan bad plan NO--**_

June valiantly tried to calm her frazzled nerves.  
"Jack," she said, "what on earth are you two doing." She wasn't graced with a reply. Showing mercy, she hauled her son out of B-07's blaster; he wheezed and collapsed in a limp, giggly heap as his mech flopped over the balustrade, and his irises faded back to normal.  
"I was... I was trying to get to the ri-- the re-- the _residue_ \--"   
She was finding it increasingly hard to keep a straight face: B-07 _would_ be ticklish under his armour. Of all the scenes to come back to.  
"I'm sure there are ways to go about that that don't entail that you actually crawl in there. It could be dangerous, you know," she chided. Speaking of. 

  
While the two wound down, she entered the house and went to the closet to search for the lead box of dosimeters: given that all semi-permanent residents were required to have one, he should've been wearing it since his first day in the base, but it had slipped everyone's mind. She paused to look at the row of spare cadet suits.  
Like it or not, crossing-over, much like the CPP, wasn't reversible; if the Decepticons were to find out that B-07 had a young, untrained, inexperienced pilot they would target him for sure: sniffing out and exploiting weakness was their specialty. And on the slim chance they didn't...

...No one had said anything. But they all knew: with the Decepticon threat so close to home, they needed as many units out on the field as possible. But 00 didn't have ranged weaponry. 02 and 08 were dead. 03 was mentally unstable. 05 had turned traitor. 09's status was unknown, his commlink silent for over a month. 10 was so new he hadn't even been presented with candidates yet. And building more units required resources and _time_ , and they didn't have any to spare.  
  


"...I should have said no," she whispered into the musty air. Her heart ached.  
_**No,** _Arcee whispered from the shadows, brushing an arctic finger against her cheek. _**Mine.**_  
Her cat's cradle felt more like a spiderweb now. June closed her eyes.  
"I should have said no."

  
  


  
B-07 angled his gun down, shook it, then brought the end up to his eye to make sure he'd ridden himself of all the various cleaning implements; Jack wondered if he was about to witness a Daffy Duck moment where his mech shot himself in the face (Smokescreen flared offence at this stray thought). He got up, feeling still a bit shaky. He had a niggling suspicion that he was forgetting something very important again, but so much had happened in the past 24 hours (along with his brains getting scrambled) he didn't know where to begin. 

It was then he realized that, despite having had what amounted to a sensory-induced panic attack, the 'Bot hadn't even burned him: his control was a lot better than he'd given him credit for.   
He sent him a mental apology, and resolved to never go along with any of his seemingly ill-concieved ideas again. Because, as it turned out, if they sounded stupidly rash they probably were.

  
Wait a second.   
He paled. Smokescreen nudged him enquiringly. Richardson poked his head around the door.

"Kid, have you seen Miko anywhere?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACKKK!  
> A warning: this was mostly fruit of not having an Internet connection for three days. Unless I get another heavy snowfall, I doubt another chapter will come soon. A bit as a reflection of those three different days, this chapter contains so many emotional switchbacks I wouldn't be surprised if readers got motion sickness.  
> (I wanted this chapter to feature 07 Shenanigans.)
> 
> More Smokescreens for the soul:
> 
>   
> (I find it hard to describe thing with words, so perhaps this illustrates what Smokescreen's Drift impression looks like a little better.)
> 
> Also, I find it pretty funny that Smokescreen, objectively the most unsubtle being in existence, somehow manages to break into the Nemesis multiple times, once even stealing an ancient artifact from the Decepticon vaults _offscreen_ right under their noses, without getting caught-- perhaps even without anyone _noticing_. And _Soundwave_ lives on that ship. Like. His paintjob only makes his sneakiness more impressive imo.


	37. Chapter 37

At the top floor of the US Department of Defence HQ, Orion and Admiral Glenn Morshower stared each other down from opposite sides of a desk. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

  
"What am I supposed to do with you, Pax?" The admiral finally spoke, breaking the silence.

No reply.

"You were suspended. You weren't operating on any orders but your own. You broke out of confinement, hacked a government system, impersonated a pilot, blew up a fighter jet, stole a _decommissioned heavyweight warframe_ \-- and officers throughout the ranks are calling you a hero."   
Orion still didn't say a word.  
"We can't simply replace you, not now that we know green energon won't cut it: B-01 is too powerful of an asset to sideline. But the pilots disobeyed the Prime's orders to follow yours. You realize why this is a problem, right?"

"When I assumed the title of Prime, I took an oath that I would do anything to protect our planet. So I did."  
"A-01 swore the same, yet here we are," the admiral growled. "How can I know you're not going off the rails?"  
"You knew this would happen when you created the position."   
Morshower slapped a palm on the desk.  
"When we created the position, we planned for 02 and 09 to _keep you in check_. And Ironside's been _conveniently_ absent this whole time. So tell me, Pax. _What am I supposed to do with you_?"

The man finally cast his gaze downward.  
"I shall defer to your decision. And the units don't acknowledge my authority: they only see B-01 as their leader. Whoever his pilot is is of no importance to them."  
"But that means 01 would have to repudiate you to get another pilot. From what I've heard, mechs don't _do_ that."

Orion couldn't quite stop the pained look from crossing his face.  
"He might it I ask."  
"And if he does and we can't find another compatible 01, we're shagged," Morshower barked. "These sentient robots are a _pain in my ass_. No. General Bryce's plan was flawed and over-hasty, but there was reasoning behind it. You have to see that this centralization of power is too dangerous: we're running the risk of repeating history."  
"So what do you want me to do?"  
  
"The pilots don't need you," the admiral said bluntly. "Your absence will certainly have a negative impact on morale, but they don't _need_ you. I'm trusting your word, _for now_ , that Unit 01 is the 'alpha' so to speak, and can control its pack on its own. If and when Commander Ironside shows up, he'll take over leadership of Unit E; if he doesn't, someone else will be instated to fill the position, at least temporarily. Until then I'll be keeping my _eye_ on you, Pax," he jabbed his finger at him, "and you'll all submit to a mandatory psych evaluation before the end of the week. If the results so much as _hint_ you're teetering on the edge, the units go into stasis and we're deploying TLAM-Ns."

Orion gave a stiff nod. Morshiwer sighed and turned towards the window.  
  


"All right. Tell me about this new pilot. The boy, Jack Darby, he's the son of the current 06, correct? The one Unit 07 set its eyes on following the events of Mission City?"  
The admiral had definitely seen his grimace this time.  
"Well that's a testament to its devotion, if nothing else," Morshower muttered. "If it had already made up its mind, maybe that's why it wasn't as receptive to other pilots as you'd expected. And June Darby was a civilian too, yet surpassed her contenders in record time; perhaps there's a reason for its behaviour." 

  
"He has until his eighteenth birthday to train and learn how to be 07's pilot. By that time, I expect to see _evidence_ as to why he was chosen over a dozen objectively superior candidates. If I don't, B-07 goes to St. Hilary to get its memory wiped. And if after that it still has a connection to this boy somehow, you'll do whatever it takes to erase it, including a full scram; and if even _that_ doesn't work, you'll replace its reactor. Understood? _Whatever it takes_. This is non negotiable, Pax." 

That was fair. That was more than he could've asked for.

"Of course."  
  


* * *

  
The armoured convoy carrying the remains of B-01's old body headed up a hill on a lane-and-a-half road, with a sheer drop on one side and a stone wall on the other; inside the helicopter providing air support, a blip appeared on the radar.  
"CAS to Ground Team. Potential hostile closing in at one o' clock: be on guard."  
An affermative crackled through the speaker; one soldier readied the strafing guns while another frowned at the signal.  
"Kinda tiny, innit? It's smaller than a 'copter."  
"Could be a drone. One of those remote-controlled bombers. Don't need to be big to do a ton of damage." They leaned out the windows to get a visual.

Suddenly, the vehicle juddered as something swooped down from above and sliced off its stabilizer fin; it canted sideways and started to spin out of control, loosing altitude.  
" _Shit_ \--"   
Gripping the yoke with one hand to stay upright, the gunner aimed at Laserbeak's underside and opened fire; the little Decepticon bird-drone retreated leaving a thin trail of smoke, but the damage had been done: the helicopter crashed into the mountainside and exploded.  
  


The convoy halted; soldiers spilled out and hid behind the humvees, forming a barricade, with anti-aircraft rifles pointed at the sky in every direction. 

A black-and-purple data-cord rose from beneath the edge and struck; taken by surprise, the men didn't have the time to re-aim before it grabbed a truck with its prehensile tip and smashed it into them.   
Another deceptively strong cable drove itself deep in the asphalt, and A-02 levered himself up onto the road in one fluid motion; Laserbeak flew around and transformed to dock on his chest, and he surveyed the damage, impassive.

_**"Mission: successful."** _

* * *

  
  
In the beginning it had been sort of exciting, in a way. Not the good kind of exciting, obviously, but it had a similar feel to when a giant metal bug had yeeted the monotony of life on campus straight out of the stratosphere; despite the rough start, that hadn't ended that badly, had it? She was in on the biggest secret in _history_. Aliens were real. Insta-space-travel existed. Forty foot-tall robots duked it out on a daily basis. She'd even gotten to _pilot_ one of them! Pity she couldn't rub it in her ex-roommate's face: she probably thought she'd died or something.

Yeah. So. It had been interesting in the _beginning_ , when stony faced agents and a plump, kindly middle-aged lady had taken turns interrogating her. Some of them had tried the intimidation ploy, with talks about juvie and an international criminal record; others had asked her simple yes/no questions behind a camera; others still had tried to get her to spill by asking about her hobbies, or where she lived. This had continued, uninterrupted except for a few snack/bathroom breaks, for three hours.   
But then they'd stopped. 

Miko was sure they hadn't gotten what they wanted; not only because she'd tried to feed them crud wherever she could (after all, the first rule of Giant Robot Fight Club was you _didn't talk_ about Giant Robot Fight Club, and she'd made a _promise_ to the Prime), but also because half the time she had genuinely no idea what they were on about. ('Teletraan' had come up several times. It was probably important.) In the end, they'd deemed her an 'unwitting accomplice or instrument to mutiny'-- which felt a little demeaning-- and left her in a chair in a corridor with the vague order to await further instruction.  
She'd paced around, bored, and caught sight of a calendar hanging on a wall; after her long stay at the base, where the day/night cycles were artificial and memorable events were liable to happen at any hour, she'd lost track of time.   
The date, circled in red marker, stared back at her mockingly.

And as time passed, with strangers passing by with barely a glance, reality had slowly started to sink in.

  
It _was_ a bit like the first time; except, now there weren't any giant robots to distract her from the fact that she had no idea where she was or what she was going to do. What was she going to _do_? And the base had Bulkhead and Kevin, who'd saved her life, taken her dune bashing, told her (expurgated) war stories, stayed up late to watch pro-wresting shows with her even while bone tired, and somehow managed to do her hair all cute with his huge hands-- these strangers didn't care. If she was lucky, they'd send her back to Japan and she'd just continue where she'd left off, in a different school, with a different roommate, perhaps even a different foster family. Already the 'Bots felt like a strange dream.

She wondered if Jack and Smokescreen had saved the day. Given the general lack of alarm, they probably had. (She tried not to feel too bitter.)  
  


A clock ticked overhead. She stared past the flow of faceless agents, soldiers, secretaries, officers and cleaners and sang under her breath, "Happy Birthday to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, pretty short chapter with quite a bit of plot. Or plot... handles? Beginnings? I dunno. I think this could be either the stinger for Season 1 or the intro to Season 2, story wise. Whichever feels best.
> 
> I especially like how the last part came out! Again, I like writing Miko, so this isn't much of a surprise. I'm still a bit confuzzled on what the next chapter shall be about, since there's a LOT of stuff happening at once and I need to organize my timeline a bit, but I already have quite a few scenes down!


	38. Chapter 38

According to what Combs-- with unwarranted griping-- had dug up, Miko was currently being held in some intelligence centre in San Francisco, and Kevin would have retrieved her stat had the Decepticons not chosen that precise moment to filch B-01's old body; the news had come far too late, and by the time he'd arrived at the scene Sounders had vanished without a trace. There was no use crying over spilt milk, and he felt HQ could've held off on their planned operations instead of diving straight in and stopping him from-- as stated by his hindbrain, affectionately named 'Bulkhead'-- _reclaiming_ his lost property. Namely Miko. He might have to sit his mech down and clear things up with him. (Again. What was it about the girl that made 04 act so _off_?)  
But he couldn't let her be taken back to Japan without at least saying goodbye and making sure she'd be all right: he was her _guardian_ , damnit, even if he'd done a shit job at it so far.

So now he and June's kid-- 07, but he just couldn't equate the two-- were on the groundbridge runway watching B-10, in alt mode, get loaded into a truck for warp transport; not Optimus, the Boss Bot was in stasis while the Boss was off duty, and would be until his psych results came in-- just a regular truck. The engineer team was motioning at him to get into the right position, since it was best to not let anyone besides chosen cadets drive an unpiloted 'Bot (especially a recently onlined one), and even from this distance he could see that B-10 didn't feel confident on his wheels: the manuever was well on its way to becoming a twenty-point turn. Then again, alts were inherently more vulnerable for the B-series. For being practically blind, Bumblebee seemed quite calm and trusting. Perhaps the truck reminded him of his leader.  
Anyway, when they finally got going, they would be out for hours before he could get to California, and at that point Miko could be halfway across the Pacific Ocean. And that thought _rankled_.

Their scrawny new 07 was studying him with a forrowed brow.  
"I'll go."  
Kevin blinked.  
"Huh?"  
"I can get Miko." The kid shuffled uncomfortably. "It was my fault she got captured and she might not be there in a while, so."  
The green pilot palmed his face.  
"Ki-- 07, there's not a snowball's chance in hell whoever's in charge there will allow a teenager to roam their halls and nab their potential informant."   
"US officials won't be coming after me with charged blasters and vibroblades. Besides, that's my job, right? I'm an infiltrator."  
Oh, so he _did_ get it. He considered the kid.

06 might never speak to him again, but he had to start somewhere, and he was right.  
  


"Use the groundbridge. We can't pinpoint your location inside the building since the CIA jams all external transmissions, you'll have to get outside to warp back home."

  
  


Jack scrambled up to the runway; from the corner of his eye, he spied Smokescreen creep out of the hangar doors.  
_I'm going to fetch Miko, not fight 'Cons._  
**_Follow._**  
Jack eyed him critically; he couldn't see how he'd fit in a regular, human-sized building. Not to mention that the whole point of the mission was to remain unnoticed, which would be significantly harder to achieve with a giant robot race-car in tow.   
B-07's Drift impression, which had, so far, approximated a gently rippling snake pool, bulged and sprouted two rows of backwards facing thorns.  
**_FOLLOW._**  
_I'll be safe,_ he thought, because the thorns weren't aimed towards him. _The worst they can do is stick me in a youth detention centre. And that's only if I get caught._  
The thorns settled a little.  
_**Stay open. No cut, no trim. See everything. I can help.**_  
  


Something in him settled as well: perhaps his anxiety hadn't all been the other's.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
"Miss Nakadai."  
Miko jolted and grimaced as the sudden movement made her vertebrae pop: she'd nodded off slumped against the window, and it hadn't done her neck any favours.   
"Mmm?" She said to the person in front of her, glancing out. It was day again; she'd spent the entire night in the government building.  
"You're leaving. Follow me."  
"'Bout time," she complained as she picked herself up, feeling sticky and gross and cold along the edges, like a film of the sickly sweet detergent smell permeating the corridor had settled on her during the night. The guy turned and walked away without a word, so she trudged along behind with her head down, lacking the resolve to put up a tough front, and thus failed to notice the peculiar path her guide chose to take--

\--Until he led her into a tiny filing room and shut the door; her senses went into overdrive and she drew back to kick this molester somewhere painful, only to stop dead when they locked eyes and she finally recognized him.  
  


"... _Jack_?"   
"...I was _going_ to compliment your acting," he replied, amused; now that she was actually paying attention, he looked _so_ out of place: how in the world had she missed that godawful _sweater tee_? "Nevermind, I guess. Thanks for not rearranging my face."  
Her vision filled with tears and she ran to wrap her arms around him; Jack was stiff and bony and awkward, so it wasn't the most comfortable of hugs (unlike Kevin's: he gave the _best_ hugs), but he was _familiar_ , and that's what mattered. He patted her shoulder in return.  
She broke away, sniffling.  
"So... you gonna break me out now or sumthin'?" His face scrunched up hilariously like an miffed cat's.  
"No, I'm... we're walking out. The front door. No breaking required. Just act like before, we'll be fine." He paused. "Probably." Miko sent him a watery grin.  
"You're so boring. We're sneaking out of an _intelligence centre_. C'mon, that totally counts."  
"Wrong floor. And who says I'm not supposed to be here?"  
"Uh huh. And that's why we're in a closet right now..."

  
They continued their whispered banter until they reached a bigger hall, at which point Miko hunched over and acted all meek-- while peering at passersby through her lashes-- and Jack did this thing where he increased his boringness tenfold and became virtually invisible. Glances slid right off of him. It was fascinating to watch.  
"You know, I'm starting to get what Smokey sees in you," the girl said when they reached an empty stairwell, only half joking. "I didn't think you were being everyway-average on _purpose_. How long've you been wearing background colours only?"  
He frowned again.  
"I'm not. And pipe down, there might be cams on." Miko rolled her eyes, but lowered her voice in compliance.  
"You're like, a textbook teenager." She counted on the fingers of her hand. "Quiet, bit of a nerd, part time job at a fast food place, likes typical guy stuff like race-cars and such, reads books on philosophy-- okay, that one's a bit weird-- and space... I bet you even have a crush on your classmate who's a cheerleader or something." He decided he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of confirming that last statement. She gestured at him.  
"See? Completely forgettable in every way--" ("hey," Jack muttered) "--except, you were secretely chosen to be a superhero! And like I said, B-07 wouldn't let just anyone pilot him. But I couldn't really figure out _why_ , until now. You're _faking_ it!"

It was his turn to roll his eyes.  
"Sorry to dash your eureka moment, but I'm really not. It's just, after Decepticons wrecked my old city and Smokescreen and Arcee painted a target on me and my mom, we had to stay undercover. There was a time I almost blew it because of something I posted online, so I learned to be careful, that's all. And mom taught me some other stuff just in case. Now seriously, _shush_ : we have to go through communications to get out, and we can't be noticed there."  
  
  


Despite not having any proper authorization, the door clicked open before them-- perks of having a spybot companion in the system-- and they rushed past rows of internal memory banks before stopping to duck behing a cabinet when footsteps sounded and someone entered from the other side.  
It was an agent, who slipped into the booth right in front of them, slid a thumb drive into a port and began downloading some files; Miko craned her neck to see what was on the screen and nudged Jack in the ribs.  
"Look, it's the baby robot," she whispered in his ear; he blinked and copied her pose, standing on tiptoe and moving a pigtail aside.

It was indeed Bumblebee: diagrams of both his root and alt mode were displayed on screen, as well as specifics of his transferral such as expected duration, up-to-date performance measurements, threats and problems detected and the current route.  
For some reason, this struck him as odd; then again, why would an agent need to know about a top secret operation that was already ongoing? And better yet, move the sensitive data onto a small device that could end up anywhere? An agent would use safer channels, right?  
These were just passing thoughts, yet his suspicion still roused Smokescreen from his quiet pool and drove him to extend an investigative feeler towards the external memory.  
**_Encrypted. No standard military-issued code. Bears resemblance to US Special Operations, not in current use._**  
_Can you crack it?_  
**_Requires key,_ **B-07 replied, disgruntled at his failure. Jack wasn't quite sure why this bothered him so much, but at least he wasn't the only one.  
  


_**No agents were authorized to be on this floor.**_  
The icy feeling was sudden and grim.   
Where had he heard SpecOps mentioned again?  
  


_'Hey,'_ he mouthed. _'What's Silas's real name?'_  
**_Leland Bishop._**  
_Try using that, at the beginning or the end, with whatever's being copied right now._  
**_11 characters. 23 variables, identifying punctuation. Computing._**  
Jack held his breath.

  
The construct bloomed into a sea anemone.  
"Jack?" Miko whispered again. "Why're you shaking?"  
"We have to get out of here _now_."  
The agent-- or _double_ agent-- jerked and whirled around.  
  
"Who's there?"  
_Smokescreen._  
**_Team leader knows._ **The door on the other side of the room unlocked with a click; Jack grabbed Miko's arm and they dashed out before the agent could do anything but gasp-- into a crowded corridor, where he resumed their calm, unhurried walk of before.  
"What. Are. You. _Doing_?" the girl bit out, rubbing her sore wrist. "Who was that?"  
"A MECH operative, apparently," he muttered. "How did she get in?"  
"What's MECH? And why aren't we _running_?"   
"Terrorists. Bad guys. Silas is their leader, the one who used to be 05."  
"The traitor."  
"The traitor," he confirmed. "And we aren't running because they aren't supposed to be here _either_ , they won't put themselves in the spotlight by sounding the alarm." As he glanced back, though, he noticed the agent from before following them, and then a secretary joining her, and then a soldier... just how many of them were they?  
"They're trying to head us off," Miko said, pressing up against him. 

They headed for the stairs again, only for Jack to realize that was the absolute worst place they could have gone: they were deserted, the perfect place to get cornered, bound and taken to a second location.  
"Crud," Miko hissed, having come to the exact same conclusion, and they broke into a run again just to put as much distance between them as they could.

  
They went down flight after flight of stairs, until they reached an underground parking garage; Jack stopped at every old looking car to try and open it, to no avail, until they got to a beat up Nissan Micra that its owner had forgotten to lock. He gestured at the girl to get in, shut the doors and the two of them hunkered down under the dashboard until they heard the MECH operatives pass. Miko peered out: they were searching each car now, starting at one end and slowly advancing towards them. The other teen rummaged around in the back and unearthed a toolbox; he set it on the seat and considered the steering coloumn.

"What are you doing _now_?"  
"Well, we can't sit here forever," Jack whispered matter-of-factly, and felt the cover. "I think this model's dated enough that it doesn't have PassLock, so I can hotwire it. I can _try_ to, anyway. Better than nothing."  
The girl's eyes went big and round and teary and he freaked out on the inside-- if she started crying again, he might manage 07's intangibility out of sheer awkwardness.  
"Your mom taught you stuff like _that_? Dude, that's... that's so _cool_. What _else_ have you been hiding from me?"  
The panel came loose and he discarded it, searching for specific wires underneath; he poked at the bundle with the screwdriver.  
_Smokescreen?_ He asked in his mind, feeling down the link for the shapeshifting construct. _Do you know which of these is which?_  
"Some aikidō," he said out loud in the meantime, "first aid, escaping chokeholds, poisoning procedures, the like. I can pick locks too, but I learned that for fun. Before... you know." His mech, for some reason, weaved threatening stingers into a curtain which he then drew over their bond.  
_**Red: battery; brown: ignition; yellow: starter,** _he told him sulkily before sinking into an amorphous puddle of goop and ignoring all other efforts at communication.  
"I'm _sorry_ , ok?" Jack muttered. "I thought we'd be in-and-out." 

"Next you'll tell me you've also become a pilot," Miko said, crossing her arms and leaning against the seat with a disbelieving air. He kept his gaze fixed on the wires he was stripping.  
"Er..."   
"Are you heckin' _serious_?!"  
He twisted the battery wires together and connected the ignition; the dash lights flicked on; he gingerly touched the exposed end of the remaining wire to the bundle, the engine started, and he sat up to put all of his weight on the steering wheel until he heard the lock break.  
  


A shout echoed across the lot.  
"They heard! Hurry and get us out of here!" And he reached over, ready to do just that--  
  
The car had manual transmission.

"...I can't."  
Beat.   
  


When she next spoke, Miko's tone came as close to deadpan as he'd ever heard it.  
"You know how to hotwire a car, but you can't _drive one_?  
"Not with a stick-shift! In driving school they only had automatics, and Smokescreen's got this convenient lever--"  
"--You learned on an _automatic_?"  
"Look, I didn't exactly envision a future as a thief," Jack said exasperatedly. "Or a race-car pilot for that matter. Can we talk about this later? When we're not both in mortal peril?"  
"How did I ever think you were cool?" Miko despaired; Jack, having studied the little diagram on the shifter, stepped on the clutch, put the car in reverse, tried the up-one-pedal/down-the-other strat (he knew the _theory_ , ok) and succeded with little finesse, making the girl bash her face into the glove compartment-- "fasten your _seatbelt_!"-- and they were _out_ of there. The double agents dove out of the way of the incoming hatch-back of death. 

Once out in the open, Jack turned them around, stalled out, sparked the wires again, inched onto the road ("this is the lamest chase sequence I've ever seen" "shut up") and drove just far enough to get out of jamming range and for a breach in space-time to appear before them and whisk them back to Outpost Omega-1.

  
  
  


(Fortunately, the uproar that ensued upon the discovery that MECH agents were still enlisted in the Army and could be anywhere-- and the subsequent scandals when some of them were caught-- covered up the mysterious disappearance of an old car and a certain japanese girl.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after the script for S1, I had this line saying 'show Jack being a badass thief/spy/whatever while getting Miko back' and literally nothing more, so I made this up as I went XD. (Yes, I did actually write 'whatever'. Pretty sure that script's gibberish for anyone but me.)
> 
> A thing I really like about the kids is that they fit the Fighter-Mage-Thief trio so _well_ , with Miko being the Fighter, Raf the Mage and Jack the Thief (and yes, I will never not love that in the standard two-guys-one-girl trio, they went and made the _girl_ the Fighter.)  
> That's one of the zillion reasons Jack is paired with Smokescreen, btw. I feel like this pair just has more potential somehow. 
> 
> Also a thing I'm looking forward to in future chapters where both Jack and Miko are pilots is: the Banter.  
> The banter is gonna be SO good. You better believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning: I have a poor record with completing longfics, soooo, this might never be complete.  
> ...I hope readers won't get mad at me if they end up actually liking this.
> 
> Also, since this is super AU, no knowledge of TFP is required to understand this story, but it's probably a lot more fun if you've watched it.
> 
> Edit: if you don't mind **major** spoilers, I did a [cover art thingy](https://www.deviantart.com/teamstormbow/art/The-Kid-Pilots-Drift-Compatible-852797619) for this fic. But, it's pretty spoilery. So there's that.


End file.
